Fate, in the hand of men
by Ryuosen
Summary: Everything changed with Claire's dive off the Ferris Wheel, just not for the better. When life became unbearable, there was no choice but to rebel. Yet for all their power, they're still losing. One last chance and Peter is just the right man for the job.
1. prologue - this we are

**Fate, in the hand of men**  
- a Heroes story -

**Author**: ryuosen  
**Artist**: davincis_girl  
**written** for heroes_bigboom at lj  
**Genre**: Action, Drama, Angst, Scifi, Het, Slash  
**Rating**: R for violence, rape, language, sexual themes,  
**Wordcount**: ~ 40000  
**Summary**:  
Everything changed with Claire's dive off the Ferris Wheel, just not for the better. When life became unbearable, there was no choice but to rebel. Yet for all their power, they're still losing. With their last chance, Peter, the right man for the job, used Hiro's power to stop Claire from ever taking the dive. Pity that he got himself killed beforehand, leaving Sylar with the task. Pity that he died too...

**Notes:**A big thank you to Ayou for listening to my ideas, whining and for kicking my ass, when it was necessary and to davincis_girl for the beautiful cover and the awesome fanmix booklet. Thanks a lot. It was great to work with you! A link to the artwork can be found in my profile under the story, along with the fanmix.

The story is complete with a prologue, 6 chapters, epilogue and will be updated every Wednesday.

_Comments/critics are appreciated!_

_

* * *

_Prologue_

* * *

_New York, 2006

_I have been having these weird dreams lately..._

_Like wisps they float in front of my eyes.. for one moment I know everything..._

_I'm alone, alone with _him_... _

_Escape is futile, chains are holding me in place as he stalks closer..._

_The first touch is surprisingly gentle and in the background ... muttering..._

_Pain always follows, I'm... powerless to stop it... _

_All I can do is scream and plead... _

_However it doesn't change anything, they don't stop, only the voices are getting louder..._

_Crumpling I always end on the cold ground, trembling as the shackles fall away... _

_Then it's all gone, like smoke and mirrors..._

_I have been having these weird dreams lately..._

_... and they are scaring me... because I think they are real... _


	2. A fatefull jump

**Fate, in the hand of men**  
- a Heroes story -

**Author**: ryuosen  
**Artist**: davincis_girl  
**written** for heroes_bigboom at lj  
**Genre**: Action, Drama, Angst, Scifi, Het, Slash  
**Rating**: R for violence, rape, language, sexual themes,  
**Wordcount**: ~ 40000  
**Summary**:  
Everything changed with Claire's dive off the Ferris Wheel, just not for the better. When life became unbearable, there was no choice but to rebel. Yet for all their power, they're still losing. With their last chance, Peter, the right man for the job, used Hiro's power to stop Claire from ever taking the dive. Pity that he got himself killed beforehand, leaving Sylar with the task. Pity that he died too...

**Notes:**A big thank you to Ayou for listening to my ideas, whining and for kicking my ass, when it was necessary and to davincis_girl for the beautiful cover and the awesome fanmix booklet. Thanks a lot. It was great to work with you! A link to the artwork can be found in my profile under the story, along with the fanmix.

The story is complete with a prologue, 6 chapters, epilogue and will be updated every Wednesday.

_Comments/critics are appreciated!_

_

* * *

_Chapter 1_

* * *

New York, 2012_

The year was nearing its end. December had broken over New York with a wave of unprecedented cold temperatures. The degrees tumbled past zero, into negativity faster than the weather cast could foretell them. Thick patches of snow covered the ground. For Peter it felt like an omen. A bad one.

It had been the worst year for the specials so far, real bad. He didn't know how long he could keep going. The anniversary of Claire's kidnapping had been yesterday and the mood among the specials had hit an all time low.

With each laws passed their movements were more and more restricted and in turn their freedom. Yesterday the state of New York had passed one that banned specials from living in every area but the Bronx to _"ensure the safety and well-being of the less privileged people of our society". _Because that they were classified as: "privileged people". They were made out to be something real special. As if they were something better than the rest of society. Still the government was successful with their propaganda.

Normal people feared them, especially those with a bracelet darker than white. He still had his own. Despite his fears they hadn't discovered that he had another power than the one he had claimed as his own.

Still the tests continued.

His nerves were stretched thin. He went to the appointments and endured whatever was being done to him only to come back more frayed, a little more destroyed. Emma was worried, had tried to talk to him numerous times by now and he always brushed her off. Hurting her but couldn't bring himself to care. Not when he was curling up under the cold spray of his shower once a month, trying desperately to drown himself. At least until rationality kicked in and he forced himself to bed.

Peter had always believed that humanity was worth saving.

Now he knew what doubt was.

Fiddling with the hem of his coat he watched a young woman. Her black hair was covered in white, the snowflakes melting before she could shake them off. She was short and apparently of Asian origin, her almond shaped eyes twinkling merrily. At the moment she was crouching in front of two children offering them something under the wary gazes of their parents.

Almost automatically his eyes drifted towards her wrist where a coding bracelet had to be worn. However her wrist was bare. Good for her. Being special had become more of a curse than a blessing. The pride in his ability had long since diminished. Now he just wished that his ability would vanish again.

Impossible he knew, but he contemplated the thoughts more and more.

What would it be like to be normal now?

A futile hope, he would never be normal again. Now he was special and would have to see it through. Peter couldn't allow himself to be like so many other specials who had taken the easy way and committed suicide. Too many were still depending on him and his will to fight.

"A fortune cookie for you? It might cheer you up."

Snapping his head up, almost giving himself a whiplash, Peter met the amused gaze of the Asian woman he had seen with the children. In her hands, bare, was a small cookie Peter knew all too well from his favorite Chinese restaurant. The dough tasted mostly like nothing and in it would be some empty slogan about his future.

"No thank you, I don't think I want to know what the future might have in store for me."

He could see as her gaze slid down to his arm, where the white bracelet was snug around his wrist. Surprisingly her face stayed devoid of the disgust he had expected or fear. Instead she looked contemplative now. Like she was thinking of something. Then she was crouching in front of him, quite a bit below his eye level forcing him to lean forward. Wary he watched her. Not necessarily out of fear, he could defend himself should she attack him but the repercussions.

Laws were after all not in favor of specials right now.

"Then you should really take it. You might find something _special_."

Her hands cupped his, before the cookie was placed on his outstretched palm. Her fingers lingered briefly, almost a caress before closing his hand and pulling away. Puzzled Peter watched her leave, stopping in front of another pedestrian and offering him a cookie. The sentence had been quite cryptic, but that wasn't what had his attention. No, something tingled at the back of his head.

_Familiarity_

As if he knew the woman but that was all but impossible. He wasn't a shallow person but he would have remembered having met such a beautiful woman. But if it wasn't the face, then what was it?

Cracking the cookie open, he swallowed the first half before pulling the small slip of paper out. Reading the sentence Peter was confused and frowned. It wasn't a sentence at all, but an address. An address belonging to a tattoo studio in Queens.

Raising an eyebrow in question, he turned the paper around, wondering if this was a mistake of the company producing the cookie. Then he froze.

_It wasn't... _

There written in a fine neat and very familiar penmanship was something Peter never expected to hear, read or see again.

_Turns out you're the villain, Peter. I'm the hero. _

The rest of the cookie was crushed in his fist and ended up on the ground. But Peter didn't pay any attention to it. His mind was frozen, the sentence echoing in his head over and over again. Abruptly he remembered what had bothered him about the woman. In his mind he saw her cupping his hand and placing the cookie in his palm. There it was the detail that had bothered him.

_The watch!_

Around her wrist, hadn't been a bracelet but a watch. A man's watch with a cracked glass and a familiar brand printed on the face.

_Sylar_

He almost jumped off the bench in surprise as realization sunk in. The woman had to have been Sylar. There was no other possibility. Or course, now the cryptic message made sense. The other was a shapeshifter. Assuming the identity of someone else was child's play for him. With no one being the wiser.

A small laugh escaped him at the thought of Sylar turning into a woman before he sobered up again. Finally Sylar had initiated contact. While Peter wouldn't have chosen a tattoo studio for the meeting he wouldn't complain. He longed to see another familiar face besides Emma, who wouldn't tiptoe around him like he was something fragile. Most specials treated him like that nowadays, afraid that offending him would worsen their situation. As if he had any influence on the government at all.

Almost a hundred percent of his friends had vanished shortly after Claire's fall. Not nearly as optimistic as he had been. Emma being a rare exception. She hadn't given up as her application to medical school had been denied because of her ability, but continued her work at the hospital. More often than not offering him a kind word or encouraging him when it threatened to become too much.

But now, now there might be a chance that things would look up for him again. All he had to do was find out where that studio was. Peter felt like he had been rejuvenated, like he had Mohinder's strength again and could hurl trees about. Calculating the time he needed to reach Queens he frowned in disappointment. He wouldn't make it tonight before the shops would close.

Tomorrow then.

* * *

_New York, 2006_

It was a routine day for Emma Coolige as she sat in one of the long-term patients' room and did her filing for the day. Humming a small thoughtless tune her ball pen danced over the papers, ink forming letters and words. A brief check and she was done with this one too. Putting the file aside, she spared a glance at the patient in the bed to her right. Ever since her colleague Mindy had started working on the same shift as her, Emma was unable to do her work in the filing room. The pitying glances and comments from Mindy made staying in the same room a hardship.

Working there? _Impossible!_

She was deaf, not dumb. However Mindy seemed to think that both went hand in hand. The discriminating comments and pitying glances spoke volumes that Emma understood without needing hearing. It also helped that she had learned to read lips at a young age. While she was normally not a violent person, some of those comments, made her angry enough that she was tempted to try and use her power against the woman. Something she had never thought about prior meeting Mindy. Not even to amuse the public as Samuel did with his carnival.

Yet, after the sixth comment which had nearly made her cry, Emma had actually contemplated what that bitch would say when her next comment would cause the ceiling to cave in. Though as soon as she had finished the thought she had chastised herself. Firstly she didn't have that kind of control over her power and secondly she had sworn to never hurt a human being with it. Mindy Duvall wouldn't change that. She wouldn't.

Consequence had been that she had taken to inhabit the rooms of long term patients to do her paperwork. She avoided Mindy and the filing room. Thus she had ended up here, a sterile white room in a most deserted part of the free clinic. Even though most long term patients were also coma patients, they often still had relatives who visited.

Well, except for the occupant of this very room. In the seventeen years he had been sleeping here, no one had ever visited him, save for the doctors and nurses responsible for him. She had asked them after she had used the room for the first time. Emma found it to be sad, everyone should have someone to keep you company. So she did it. When she had filing to do, she would do it in his room, while talking about her day, her colleagues and every other subject under the sun that came to mind. Of course he didn't react, he never did. But she believed firmly that he could hear her, when she sat at his bedside and talked about the newest discovery in science or her cello practice.

While she never spoke about family, Emma had actually one day broached the subject of her special power.

The young man, she didn't even know his name, had of course been silent throughout her confession, her worries and fears, but she had definitely felt better afterwards. She hadn't been judged and had for once been free to tell everything and nothing, at her own pace.

It had been a liberating experience.

The sound of her pager going off made her look up. Glancing at the display, she smiled. She had forgotten the time again and Nina was calling her to remind her to take a break. Closing the folder she took one look at the clock hanging above the door told her that Nina was right and she was due for her break. Standing she stretched briefly, before giving the young man one last look. Yesterday she had promised to tell him about the play she had seen the same evening.

Turning around she put the chair back in position and swept her files up. Even if the young man never did get visitors, she wouldn't risk it that somebody not privy to the information could get the chance to read them. One last customary sweep over the room showed nothing out of the ordinary as Emma set to leave. Therefore she was unprepared as something cold clamped around her own wrist. Like a whiplash she faced the bed and stared into brown eyes.

Emma _screamed!

* * *

__San Francisco, 2015_

He did it!

Sacking against a jagged stone structure, he sighed in relief. He had managed it. Now they had a real chance of turning the battle in their favor. All he had to do was get out of the range of their dampening machines and meet up with the others. Then retreating and giving them hell by the means of the ability he just had acquired.

Yes, that they would do.

A sound and before his eyes were even fully open a body sacked to the ground, hitting the dirt with squelching noise. Emotionless he stared at the corpse, not even yet cooling. Years ago he would have felt guilt for what he just did, agony even. Then again, years ago he had been tied to humanity in one of the most unique ways that were possible and after the connection was severed he had never regained the intimacy this connection had afforded him, neither the understanding or the ability to forgive almost any offense. The hand holding the gun was steady, while he looked around for more threats. They were none.

Years ago?

He had been young then and naïve, but that would be Sylar speaking. Hell the other still called him naïve, even though his hands were just as stained with blood and death as his own. Still there was difference, Sylar insisted on and stuck to that opinion as religiously as to the little family he now called his own. Once you had earned Sylar's loyalty, he would protect you with everything he had.

Family?

There wasn't much left of it, at least blood related wise. Nathan had died, no been murdered by Sylar years before their lives went down the drain. His da.. Arthur even earlier, also killed by Sylar. His ma? Her curtain had fallen just like she would have wanted. Even more important her last breath had been the key to their solution. Angela Petrelli had died after sleeping for six months. During that time she had dreamed of the most accurate futuristic premonition, she could receive.

It had cost her life.

At age 70 she had been laying on her bed in the dark shelter they had found and secured for her. Then they had left her to sleep, never visiting, with Matt Parkman being the only one aware of her location aside from Peter himself. It had been his task to check up on Angela every few weeks and change the drips that kept her alive. How she had managed to sleep naturally for six months was something no one could explain but Angela had done it.

_He had known when she had woken, despite having no power to tell him. Still, Peter had known, discarded everything and left immediately for the hideout. _

_She had been in the same position as they had left her, with the head on a stark white pillow, a sheet covering her thin frame with her hands folded on top. Her body, despite the liquid drips, that had kept her fed during the months she had spent dreaming, had withered away and making her appear nearly skeletal, especially her head with the eyes sunken in, skin stretched tightly over her skull and her once black hair nearly a translucent white. But he hadn't cared. _

_Silently kneeling down next to her, Peter had gently grasped one of her thin bony hands and waited somewhat impatiently for his mother to awaken. _

_Not even a minute later her eyes had snapped open, her tired gaze meeting his own hurried one. His mother had been one of their last hopes, without another precog they were nearly powerless against their opponents who sniffed them out as soon as they left their shelters. And they couldn't rely on Micah to shroud them on every opportunity, he already did enough. _

"_I knew you would come Peter, I dreamed it."_

_His breath escaped him in an audible whoosh and the knot inside his chest loosened. If she had known that it would be him being here instead of Parkman, than she might have dreamed of a solution too. But he wouldn't get his hopes up, yet. _

"_Do you want some water."_

_Parkman had placed a pitcher near the bed and a glass. Clearly he had also anticipated Angela's awakening. Filling the glass, he supported her frail form as she drank. Only a few gulps and she turned her head away. Setting the glass down Peter realized what his heart had already known as he had watched his mother's eyes opening. _

_These would be their last moments together. _

_He should have known right away. He had been a nurse once and caring for the elderly had been the career he had chosen, regardless of how much his parents had bitched about it. During that time he had met people, cared for them and even accompanied them in their last hours. Yet, he hadn't noticed that his mother, his frail thin mother, who had slept for half a year, had been fed by the means of drips and nutritional liquids, was dieing. _

_And he had only come because he wanted to know how to change their fate._

_His head bowed without conscious thought as shame filled him. Another side-effect of his lost empathy. Where he could once tell what people were feeling, there was now a bleeding wound inside his heart. Even more so long after the existence of special had been revealed to the world. Something that couldn't be cured by a formula or any powers he took up. On cue he had felt the flare of Claire, her healing resting inside himself, connecting them in ways no blood bond could. It calmed him somewhat. _

_Then he felt, fingers at his face had lifted his head. Fingertips were gently touching the scar that marked his face before wiping his tears away, like she had always done when he had been little. Tears? When had he started crying? When was the last time he had cried in front of someone?_

"_It's alright, I know."_

_The hand left his face and Peter could see that the whole action had cost his ma precious strength. He caught it between his own, his calloused fingertips caressing her skin. He didn't want her to die. Yet there was nothing he could do, his blood even with Claire's ability didn't hold the same regenerative abilities. There was nothing he could do. _

"_You'll last two more years and on May 16th_ _you'll open fire on a tall grey building with a glass front..."_

_Angela coughed and Peter watched with fear as fine red dots appeared on the white sheets. Dropping her hand he offered her more sips to soothe her throat, not that it would be much help. Ignoring her frown he pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and carefully cleaned her face. Putting the stained fabric away he made note to burn it at the earliest possibility. _

"_.. in … San Francisco... you'll find Nakamura there... take his... back … dieing... key...acce..." _

_More blood trailed down the pale chin, now from lips and nose. Peter knew this was the end, but he couldn't seem to find any words that conveyed what he feeling. Talking had always been Nathan's forte anyway, so he settled for clasping her hand and holding her in a gentle embrace. Angela's breathing grew short and sounded more like rasping. Her fingers clenched around his before growing slack. Her eyes fluttered and closed._

_Her breathing stopped and everything was quiet. _

_Peter stared numbly at his mother, in death more relaxed than ever in life, before arranging her hands on her stomach and lowering her back onto the bed. Using his handkerchief he cleaned the bloodstains from her mouth and chin before putting the pitcher and glass away. Only as someone touched his shoulder, did he react and nearly put a bullet through Parkman's brain and he would have, hadn't had the older man the foresight to render that thought useless. All his arm did was twitch as he wanted to reach for his weapon. _

"_She's gone." _

_It wasn't a question and Peter only nodded along. His gaze still rested on his mother, arms wrapped around himself. Matt wanted to comfort the younger man, but refrained. Rumors about of Peter's aversion to casual touch had spread fast through the ranks of his old friends and acquaintances who still remembered him with this empathy. They respected his wishes, had no choice but to. The one time Claire had touched Peter without his express permission she had actually taken over ten minutes to revive. Afterwards no one wanted to get on his bad side._

"_I don't want to be disrespectful..."_

"_They are coming, aren't they?"_

_Parkman nodded, of course, Peter couldn't see it, having his back turned to the telepath. His hand slid into the inner coat pocket and he withdrew a small syringe. Mohinder had started to distribute those three years ago, when one of their spies had found out that the bodies of specials were used for experiments after the army got their hands on them. It had explained their defense mechanisms pretty quick, their knowledge of their own weaknesses._

_The formula inside the syringe ensured that the body decomposed with enhanced speed and left nothing behind for the scientists to work with, especially not the brain. It was bad enough when they had been experimenting on them while they were alive. None would tolerate it after death, after they had died for their cause. _

_He saw Peter uncapping the needle and step forward, arm raised, only to see him lower it a fraction later. When he spoke his voice sounded frail, broken even and Parkman had no need to read his thoughts to know. With a decisive movement he took the syringe from the former empath's hand as he spoke..._

"_I can't!"_

_And really he wouldn't wish the task of having to destroy your own relatives' body on even his worst enemy. In death the specials and humans were all the same, sadly the humans didn't realize it. The only thing they saw was a threat to their safety because they lacked the understanding and when they gained understanding they liked what they saw even less. Otherwise it might never have come to war. Or that strong people, like Peter, were suddenly nothing more than shadows of their past selves._

_Sinking the needle into the skin above the heart, he mused that it was very pointless to philosophize about it. History had already been decided and without Nakamura they had no chance to rewrite it. _

_Hiro Nakamura had been one of the first specials they had kidnapped and imprisoned after discovering his file in the remains of the Primatech or Company network. To the day they had been unable to figure out how they had blocked the man's ability, but Mohinder had theorized that they had exerted pressure on the same spot in his brain which had once been covered by the tumor, that had threatened his life. However without finding the man, they would also never know. _

_The clear liquid sloshed and then the syringe was empty and Matt put it back into his back pocket. They couldn't risk leaving anything salvageable behind least of all Mohinder's precious syringes. It wasn't as if they had resources in abundance. _

"_You done?" _

"_Yes, let's set this place on fire and get the hell out of here. With any luck it might also throw them also off our trail for a while."_

_Luckily they rigged all their places with explosives before moving in and setting the timer was all that needed to be done now. During all Peter avoided looking at his mother's body. Something Matt couldn't fault him for. He certainly didn't want to see his mother decompose in front of him. The stench of rotting was bad enough. _

_At last they stood before the small hideout Angela Petrelli had inhabited during her last six month. While faith had left Peter years ago, he nonetheless made a cross and prayed briefly for his mother's soul, before lifting the control for the timer. Pressing the button they ran until they were way out of range. Behind them a booming noise signaled that the fuze had gone off without a hitch and that now nothing could connect them to the place. _

_It was done. _

_Opening one of the entrances to the sewers, Matt had his gun raised, watching their surroundings as Peter slipped down. Covering the opening he ran into another direction before vanishing into the canalization himself. He knew he wouldn't see Peter for another two months. Only because the leaders of the groups couldn't risk being meeting more often, with the thorough sweeps by the Homeland the risk of discovery of their meeting place was far too high. _

_No, the less often they met, the safer they were. _

_And now they had at least a hint at what to do. He had read it in Peter's mind. Angela Petrelli would be forever remembered by the specials that her sacrifice would safe, however in the same moment she would be forgotten. Her sacrifice lost in the mists of the ever changing timeline. Peter would make sure of it._

_1. Last two more years. That meant to May 2015._

_2. Find that building in San Francisco, Nakamura will be there._

_3. Have Peter save Nakamura and take his ability_

_4. Travel back in time to stop Claire from ever revealing their existence._

_Matt snorted. Right, easier said than done. Logically speaking he should inform Sylar immediately and have him ensure that Peter wouldn't part with Claire's powers anymore until it was time for him to take Hiro's. Fat chance of that happening. He was sure that even Sylar, one of the people closest to Peter wouldn't be able to make him stay behind the front-lines. The old Peter might have, but the new one? _

_Yeah right! They both would never stand for it. _

_Matt could only hope as Peter's thoughts grew quieter and quieter that he wouldn't do anything stupid until their time had come. Feeling Peter's thoughts abruptly cut off, he froze... a patrol! How had they known... running Matt jumped into the dirty water, hand already hitting speed-dial for Micah. The special needed to blanket the area immediately. As in now, otherwise he would be discovered any minute. He could feel as his heart beat jumped up, adrenaline kicking in and he ran, desperate to get out off the machines ranges.  
Chances of them catching up were slim as long as Micah could block their equipment... he didn't want to think of the alternative. Yet instinctively his tongue pressed against the hollow tooth inside his mouth. Should the worst happen, he was prepared to do what was necessary to ensure the success of Peter's mission. Blindly typing Angela's dream in the cell phone, while running Matt strained his brain to hear any thoughts. _

_Silence.._

_Behind him, one of the lids was lifted and he only sped up. Something that would have been impossible during his days on the force. Thinking of his son and pregnant wife enabling him to run even faster. _

_Only to collide nearly with another body, a small breach in the blocking field warned him and not a moment too soon. Letting a small grenade fall, he threw himself forward bypassing the agent. Rolling over his shoulder he was back on his feet, zig-zaging over the small paths to avoid the bullets. He would have to take a new route now. _

_Then the grenade exploded and the agent was no more. Matt was relieved but didn't slow down. There was no telling how many agents had entered the sewers and he dearly hoped that Peter had managed to get away before they had located him. _

_They couldn't fail, they just couldn't! With his thumb he hit the send button. _

It had been the last time Peter had seen Matt Parkman. Homeland security had caught up with him eventually. But before they could apprehend him, he had swallowed the poison capsule, which most of their agents carried in their teeth nowadays. Parkman had been dead before his body had hit the ground. At least according to Micah who had watched the whole ordeal before destroying the cell phone to cover their tracks.

_Micah_

Another victim, he had committed suicide a few weeks ago. The stress and pressure having finally broken the camel's back. Molly had found him, slumped over his computer in a pool of his own blood. She still hadn't recovered from seeing her friend dead. It made it all the more important that he would change this wretched future.

He had no idea how yet, but would figure something out. The best way would probably be to meet with his younger self and guide him into not making the same mistakes as he did and they would stop Gabriel before he became a killer in the first place. Though they would have to be mindful of the butterfly effect, he had no desire that _his ripples in time_ caused another apocalypse to happen. One that he couldn't predict.

They would just have to be careful.

Pushing himself up, he checked his surroundings one more time before touching his fingers to the right ear where the headset was positioned. The tiny computer activated upon scanning his fingerprint and he spoke quietly.

"Asterix to Vitalstatistix, I repeat Asterix to Vitalstatistix. Do you copy?"

"We copy Asterix."

"I have found Getafix and collected the magic potion. I repeat I have found Getafix and collected the magic potion."

"Roger Asterix. Obelix will meet you at the boars' hut. We will see you soon. Vitalstatistix out."

Deactivating the headset, Peter raised his gun. He had be too careful. Their plans were on the verge of coming to fruition. All their sacrifices, the suffering and the enduring, all would be worth it. As long as they managed to change the past, nothing could be as bad as this. A noise alerted him of something nearing his position. Pressing himself against a wall, he pulled a small mirror from one of his many pockets and used it to peer around the corner.

_Shit!_

A whole squadron of agents and he had only two clips of ammo left. Without the healing ability he would be an easy prey for them and the boars' hut was still nearly a mile away. He couldn't hope that Obelix would save him. So he would either have to outwit them or find a way around.

One thing was sure, he wouldn't be a sitting duck!

Using a small PDA he displayed a map of the surrounding area and cursed inwardly. The dampening machines were far closer than anticipated. There was no hope that he could, in an absolute case of emergency, ditch the meeting and travel back immediately. It seemed he would have to return even faster than anticipated. Clutching the small device he forced himself to remain calm, mistakes were deadly now.

Breathing in and out, he resolved that he would have to make a run for it. Playing a hero would only get him killed now. The nearest entrance to a sewer, which wasn't blocked by some debris was about half a mile away. A long distance but he hadn't trained for this day for months and all sacrifices and lost lives couldn't have been for naught. He wouldn't allow it.

Making sure that all agents weren't looking in his direction he threw a small pebble against a very unstable ruin. Like he desired, the construct started to rumble ominously before the first pieces crashed to the ground, covering the sound of his footsteps as he slipped away. He would make it, he had to.

Otherwise all hope was lost.

* * *

New York, 2006

_He was back, he could tell. _

_The fabric scratching against his skin, the bare feet as he was forced to walk over the cold concrete. Yes he was in hell, he knew. _

"_Don't worry Peter, today there will be no new tests as our scientists are still evaluating the results of last months."_

_His fingers clenched into the fabric of the scrubs he was wearing and had it not been for the shackles that kept his arms immobile or the guard standing behind him with a taser, he would have decked the arrogant prig for the last sentence. How dare he refer to the torture they had him endure "results"! Nothing about the last session even remotely helped explain his ability or give them understanding in a way he could comprehend. Cutting him open would have offered more results... _

_They shouldn't be allowed to do that to him and call it all _a duty _in the name of science. _

_Nevertheless here he was, sitting on a small uncomfortable chair in a room that probably had been modeled after some interrogation room in a bad B flick. Walls with one way mirrors, pale white washed walls, a table and two chairs. Yep bad movie imitation. Though Peter couldn't even begin to understand why he was here. He had been good, followed all the requirements imposed on him since the law concerning specials took effect._

_Hell he had been one of the few ones, who had registered himself on his own free will. _

_Of course, not all had taken that route. Sylar had been exceedingly clever and taken over the carnival. After assuring Peter that he would be good and keep in touch, all carnies and Sylar had vanished overnight. Months later he had received a package with a new compass inside and a small note inside._

_Sadly that one had been destroyed during a raid inside his building for another special, his neighbor to be precise. Without any means to contact Sylar, he waited for a signal, for any sign off life as the living conditions for specials became more and more difficult. At first it had been light, DNA tests became mandatory at birth to determine if the children had the genes and therefore the potential to become a special. Then there were the fixed medical exams they had to undergo. _

_To find out more about their powers, yeah right! Like any of them believed that bullshit._

_The last straw had been the registering they had been forced to undergo. Registered with name, address, personal data and ability. Depending on the nature of their ability, they even had to wear a colored bracelet that could in emergency situation be used to track an individual down. If Peter didn't know it better, he would say it was only one step away from old Nazi Germany, which had been crushed over 60 years ago for their inhumanity. _

Man as an individual is a genius. But men in the mass form the headless monster, a great, brutish idiot that goes where prodded.

_That was what they had become, monsters, Charlie Chaplin really had been intelligent. He had recognized what humanity was and voiced it quite eloquently. The thought of ending up on a lab table and being dissected send bolts of fear through his gut. Without Claire's power he would die and he had no desire to do that for a long time. Besides if they ever decided to dissect him, they would learn that Peter had lied to them about the nature of his ability and that could have consequences he didn't want to imagine. _

"_Peter, we found evidence that you once worked with a very dangerous special named Sylar. Is that correct?"_

"_He helped me save the people on the carnival."_

_Hearing the scribbling he just knew that the man had written notes for later perusal. Not that he gave a damn, there wasn't much of anything he cared about these days. His mother was still influential enough to have avoided most procedures. The Company affording her anonymity and she had almost immediately gone into hiding. And while he loathed to admit it, he felt hurt that she hadn't thought to inform him, her last son. Instead he was left to fend for himself in a world that didn't want him or the other specials. _

"_The carnival of Samuel Sullivan? An interesting thing, this carnival and the people. We have yet to find any traces of them. DO you happen to know why? Is Sylar with them?"_

_He shrugged at that, while it was very probable, Peter truly didn't know. Sylar was a wanderer and a lone wolf for most of the time. It was almost certain that he had left the others behind over the last months. Not that he would tell them that. A manhunt was the last thing Sylar needed and Peter would be the last person who would rat him out. Knowing the former serial killer, Sylar would return to his former ways just to freak humanity out. _

"_You can't find the carnival. Only specials can and that only under the right circumstances and I don't know them. They differ from person to person. As for Sylar, no idea. Could be, could not. You never know with him."_

"_So the tattoo of the compass on your arm won't lead us to the carnival?"_

"_It's a tattoo and my ability is empathy. I cannot find people."_

_And that was the truth, his tattoo didn't work anymore since Sylar had taken over leadership of the carnival. God only knows how often Peter had tried to make it work and failed. He didn't know how to find them and it made him glad because now his ignorance would protect others from his own fate. _

_Or Claire's... Claire, his niece, who was confined somewhere and undergoing tests to synthesize more meds from her blood. _

_She had been kidnapped on an open streets without anyone trying to help her. She was just a special after all. Bennet had been frantic and vanished soon after as well. Now he was under the top ten most wanted of the FBI, for terrorism and attacks on the government. Only this time around he didn't have the Company to back him up, he was on his own and doing his worst to make the government regret their actions. The only one more wanted, well that was Sylar. _

_Sylar the only confirmed special who was supposedly able to copy other specials' abilities and didn't that send Homeland security in a frenzy? _

_Peter hoped it did. Those bastards deserved everything they got. The _Brave New World _Sylar had referred to at the carnival had come true, just not like they had imagined at the time. It made him curse his niece and her naivete, had she truly thought that the other humans would quietly accept them? _

_She had, she'd believed in humanity and had just been as bitterly disappointed as he himself. _

_After confirming his ability, Hesam had stopped talking to him and Emma as well. Before the _Brave New World _happened, they had been friends. Nowadays they were colleagues working together to save human lives, nothing more nothing less. The rejection and many like it had been the reason that whole living districts were suddenly occupied by specials, separate from the humans. _

_Humanity had rejected them and they found solace in each other. Even if that meant living in ghettos._

"_But you found it once, you couldn't do it again or don't you want to?"_

"_Can't! I want to, believe me I want to."_

_More notes were scribbled down and he could mumbles, indicating that words were being exchanged. Either they had just confirmed that he despised them just as much as they despised him or were surprised that he admitted to wanting to leave their society. He didn't care, they could all rot in hell. Sighing his shoulders slumped, making the chains clatter onto the ground. _

"_Very well Peter, that will be all questions for now. Our time's not over yet. So we will conduct another experiment. Last months we tested your ability to influence other persons' emotions. Something that you are according to our tests unable to do."_

_Peter refrained from rolling his eyes. He had told them that. The only thing he could do was understand emotions, barely. Meaning he knew what someone was feeling and even that had taken him months to accomplish. It was all that was left of his original ability which his father had stolen from him. Sometimes in his more cynical moments Peter was almost convinced that Arthur had known what was coming and had wanted to protect his son from the repercussions of his niece's foolishness. Of course it wasn't the truth, but..._

"_Today we'll test if your ability makes it possible to projects others' emotions on you." _

_Peter shrugged again, as if he cared what others were doing as long as it wasn't invasive. Besides he knew that it was impossible. Prior the theft, yes, then projecting something onto him would have been possible. It had been a problem, to separate the emotions he experienced, to tell them apart, but now years after the theft. Now projecting wasn't possible anymore. It had made him realize all the more just how much he had been influenced by those around him._

_He had also discovered that he had his ability since he had been twelve or so, a miracle that it had taken nearly fifteen years before exhibited other abilities beside his own empathy. Perhaps his age had factored in it, or the abilities matured with the body? Though he remembered Sylar telling him that he had already understood complex mechanics at the age of six or so. It was probable different for every special. _

_A guard urged him to his feet none too gently and led him through the different corridors until they had reached one room Peter had come to hate. The first was a control room filled with different equipment, a few scientists were already inside. They watched him with an air of disdain, dislike and curiosity. He endured the stares without openly acknowledging them. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing his discomfort. _

_Then he was pushed into the examination room. _

_It was this room that haunted him at night. Here where they conducted their experiments and tests on him. He could live with questions. Being a Petrelli had taught him lying well, even if he normally preferred not to. But the prodding, the touching and being treated like a guinea pig got to him. The small cell like room reminded him too distinctly of level 5 and his brief stay there. A cold concrete floor, tiled walls, metallic surfaces but instead of a bed there was the cot he was sitting on. In front of the cot were hooks. His chains had been fastened to them by the guards._

_Without Mohinder's strength he had no chance of escape anymore. _

"_Experiment 00265 with subject pp12231979. Testing includes the subjects' ability to be overwhelmed by emotion of a foreign entity. Test commences at 1200 hours."_

_With that the researcher left the room, leaving him behind on the cot with his arms still shackled to the ground. The shackles were a security measure, introduced after another special had attacked the researchers and nearly killed him. Consequences had been drawn after the incident, the chains being the least important one. _

_Small zaps shook him briefly as the probes placed on his head were activated. It was a very uncomfortable feeling but he had gotten used to that too. Like they were getting used to everything humanity threw at them. Peter was pretty sure the the next law affecting them would introduce a curfew or something of that nature. The government did its damnedest to cage them._

_They were afraid, it wasn't particularly difficult to see. Afraid of what they didn't understand and even more frightened when they understood what some of them were capable of. Like Matt Parkman who had gone into hiding with his wife and son after his colleagues had attempted to arrest him the moment his profile had been discovered and a warrant released for him. Peter didn't know where Parkman was, but he hoped he was safe. While they hadn't seen eye to eye where Sylar had been concerned, they still had been something like friends. _

"_Test subjects shows no change, a different set of emotions is now used."_

_The test had already begun? Peter hadn't noticed, he didn't feel any different from before the scientist had left the lab. Shrugging he counted the tiles of the ceiling to amuse himself. Thinking of his friends and former friends would only make him depressed again. Had Sylar already forgotten him or their nine years together? He didn't think so, the other wasn't the type to just forget about someone and considering their prior history it was even more unlikely._

_It was more probable that Sylar, being wanted by the FBI, was simply laying low. He would have done the same given the choice. Having no real rights sucked and the government refused to introduce a party of specials into their midst, which meant they also had no one who was fighting for their rights. He doubted that they would get their own party anytime soon. _

"_Again no change. Setting of the test changes. Direct contact will be tested."_

_The door opened and a man walked in. Peter immediately knew he was angry, the emotion radiating off his body like the rays off the sun. He got the feeling that this part of the experiment wouldn't bode well for him and adjusted his body in subtle ways. The man was angry enough to attack him and he didn't want nor need new bruises._

_Peter didn't say anything otherwise, it would be ignored anyway. _

_Strong fingers clamped onto his shoulder. Peter flinched briefly from the pain but didn't feel different. Though he avoided looking into the man's eyes. Something in them unsettled him, something dark and malicious, he had felt it from across the room. Now it was almost suffocating in its intensity but it wasn't the anger he was supposed to feel. Hoping the time passed quickly he let his body sink against the tiled wall behind him and waited. As he expected nothing happened. _

"_Subjects shows no change. Use emotion no. 06."_

_Something changed in the whole body language of the man and it unsettled him in ways he couldn't begin to describe. He had no idea what emotion six was but it wasn't anything good. _

_Another hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him forward until he was nearly chest to chest with the man and then Peter could identify the emotion the man now felt and promptly recoiled, doing everything in his power to push him away. Though given that his hands could barely be lifted above the height of his hips that didn't accomplish much. _

_They couldn't do that! _

_With his hands secured he relied on his legs to push the man off, again, to no avail. His body was pressed against the wall as the other straddled him. Peter really didn't need the physical confirmation to know what the man was feeling. The erection burned against his stomach, threatening to make him ill. _

"_Stop, you can't do that!"_

_His protests went ignored as he felt fingers carefully brush over the skin of his face, even as he turned away as far as he was able to. The knots on his scrubs were undone and fell down, exposing his chest and stomach. Fingers gripped his chin, forcing him to face the other. Peter felt sick, those eyes burned with a mixture of hate and lust. He tried to pull his face away without success before the man leaned closer. _

_With a satisfying crunch the man reeled backwards as Peter headbutted him right in the nose. Blood spurted from it and he used the moment to his advantage and bucked the other off him. Breathing heavy he knew that this would have consequences and he didn't give a damn, NO ONE touched him without his expressed permission, especially not for some mundane experiment. _

"_Subjects' heart rate is heightened as are the adrenaline levels. Subjects shows emotions differing from the norm. Experiment proceeds."_

_Peter gaped, staring at the glass front in quiet horror. They couldn't mean that, could they? _

_An unsuspected punch caught him off guard, slamming his head into the wall behind him. He tasted blood on his lips, had he bitten his tongue? There was no time to think more. Suddenly he was on his back, the rods of the cot digging into his skin as the chain keeping him captive were tightened, making it impossible to lift his upper body._

_With frightening clarity Peter realized what was about to happen in the name of science. _

_It hurt, more than any law that had been imposed on them. Now he knew what they thought of specials. A lone tear dripped from his eye before he felt hands on his body, where he didn't want them. He was no telepath anymore but he remembered being one and how he had pushed the thoughts of others into the background. Using that technique he retreated into a far corner of his mind, unwilling to endure what was about to happen. His eyes glazed over and he didn't notice anymore as head was pulled forcefully backwards and his neck bared. _


	3. To decide

**Fate, in the hand o

* * *

f men**  
- a Heroes story -

**Author**: ryuosen  
**Artist**: davincis_girl  
**written** for heroes_bigboom at lj  
**Genre**: Action, Drama, Angst, Scifi, Het, Slash  
**Rating**: R for violence, rape, language, sexual themes,  
**Wordcount**: ~ 40000  
**Summary**:  
Everything changed with Claire's dive off the Ferris Wheel, just not for the better. When life became unbearable, there was no choice but to rebel. Yet for all their power, they're still losing. With their last chance, Peter, the right man for the job, used Hiro's power to stop Claire from ever taking the dive. Pity that he got himself killed beforehand, leaving Sylar with the task. Pity that he died too...

**Notes:**A big thank you to Ayou for listening to my ideas, whining and for kicking my ass, when it was necessary and to davincis_girl for the beautiful cover and the awesome fanmix booklet. Thanks a lot. It was great to work with you! A link to the artwork can be found in my profile under the story, along with the fanmix.

The story is complete with a prologue, 6 chapters, epilogue and will be updated every Wednesday.

_Comments/critics are appreciated!  


* * *

__Chapter 3

* * *

_

_New York, 2006  
_

Emma was still in shock as she sat on one of the many chairs in the area of examination room 23. She couldn't believe what had happened, the patient had woken up. Had woken up and grabbed her arms as if such things like muscle atrophy didn't exist. While she knew that all patients got their weekly exercises, it shouldn't be possible. In all her time as a medicine student, later a resident and now as a file clerk she had never heard of something like this.

Now she was waiting for doctor Miligan to finish his initial examination.

She had been given the day off while a nurse tried to reach the only living relative the man still had. At least now she knew his name. It was a weird name and reminded her of her youth but when she spoke it and watched the lights float in the air she couldn't help but think it beautiful.

It really had a certain ring to it.

Parting her lips she had just formed the first syllable as the door opened and the doctor stepped out. Quickly she rose and greeted him again, receiving a smile in return.

"How is he doing doctor?"

"Emma you know I cannot tell you that. You'll have to ask his mother when she comes in."

For a moment she looked disbelieving at the man, they both know that she had the clearance to simply read the file. But she's here out of concern and didn't want to snoop after the young man like she was some weird stalker. Sighing she let her shoulders slump. Alright then she would have to read the file.

"You know that he never had a visitor in all the years he's been here, don't you?"

"I know that Emma but the rules are in place for a reason. We both know that."

Then he handed her the file and left without a word. For a moment she was bewildered but eventually she opened it and glanced over the first page before slamming the folder shut again.

_Impossible!_

What she had just read there couldn't be possible even if he had heard everything over the years. It defied everything they knew about the brain. Shocked she sank onto the chair, she had occupied before. Ten minutes later she is still sitting there as the nurse came to tell her that the mother was in a nursing home with bad case of dementia. Her son had been lost to her a long time ago. Besides for her, he was still a child, even in her memories, not a grown man. She wouldn't recognize him anyway.

So they were back to the beginning, before he had woken up. A young man with no one to visit him. Resolutely Emma stood up, if there was no one to get to know this new person then she would be the one to do so. Looking at the file she knew that she wouldn't have an opportunity to visit now. The doctor had only left for a short break before the tests would resume. But tomorrow she promised herself, tomorrow she would visit.

Tucking the folder in its designated place next to the door she left. Life had thrown enough curveballs at her for one day. But tomorrow she would get her answers and she would find out how a man.. boy who she had never met before in her life knew her name.

* * *

_San Francisco, 2015_

A sickening intake was all they heard as Claire returned to life. But neither paid attention to her. All they could think about was that Peter had been hit with shanti and that he was the one they counted on to travel back in time. But now they didn't have any antidote anymore to cure him. Besides Peter was also mortally wounded, the blood still dripping from the gaping hole above where his heart was, spoke silent volumes.

"You'll.. have to do it."

Peter had been the first to speak and it was the only solution he could think of. Sylar would have to take the ability with his empathy and then make the jump back. Slowly he crawled over to where the former serial killer propped against the debris, regenerating and still looking at him dumbfounded. Had it been any other situation Peter would have rejoiced in shaking Sylar's composure, but knowing that his death was imminent took the jest out of it quite well.

"I can't Peter, I have never been able to take an ability from you."

Luckily Sylar's head had already regenerated completely, the speed was incredible and even superior to Claire's. But at the moment Peter wasn't interested in that but the damning stubbornness that matched the one of the Petrellis any day. Didn't the other see that this was their only choice?

"But you n..need have to.. I can't."

And it was the truth, he felt already the effects of the virus. He couldn't do anything, least of all using his acquired power. Coughing he felt blood dribble down his chin and it only made him beg Sylar more. He hadn't used the look that Nathan had once upon a time called puppy eyes in years but now he gave it his best go. All to persuade Sylar, anything to change their fate. Peter knew that Sylar had come to the same conclusion as he had, however his concerns were also warranted.

Despite that they had known each other for years, seen each other at their best and worst, Sylar had never been able to empathize enough with him to take an ability. Not for their lack of trying either. Countless times they had sat together in one of their many shelters, always on the run but whenever they had the time they had tried. There had been countless situations and emotions used to establish a connection, starting with how both their mothers' had always expected more from them then they could give, that they both had loved Elle to that they were apparently the only specials able to replicate powers.

Nothing had helped, not this, not that. Eventually they had run out of ideas to try and stopped.

But now they had only one go before all was lost and Peter was desperately searching his brain for something they had in common which might connect them deeply enough. Sylar's expression mirrored his thoughts. He, too, was searching for something to empathize and turning up flat. In the background they could hear the machines that dampened their powers and Claire's coughing as her lungs repaired themselves.

Peter was once more perusing a route over his mother. She had after all shaped their lives in many ways.

Briefly he drifted back towards the day, when she had died, and did a double-take. His mother's filtered through his brain and only then he remembered that she had something about a key... she had known that he would die and he hadn't even realized it but what was the last word she had spoken?

He knew it had started with an _"A"_ but what had followed. Now he wished he had paid more attention after she had mentioned Hiro but it was too late now to cry over spilled milk. Wiping the blood from his mouth he studied Sylar. What else did they share that connected them, aside from their mothers, the nature of their power, their desperate need to act, to be the hero and suddenly it was right in front of his eyes and he laughed. Hacking and coughing, splattering blood over his skin as he realized that it had been easy the whole time, but they had been too blind to see it.

Where stemmed their need to be a hero from? Their wishes to be something special, to stand out against the masses?

Pulling himself closer to Sylar, grabbing one of his hands and interlaced their fingers, while ignoring Sylar's questions. Instead he pulled himself up until they were on one eye level. Looking into the brown colored depths Peter discovered to his own surprise that Sylar's eyes weren't just brown but had golden flecks in them, still they looked at him in confusion. Their strategic mastermind hadn't realized it yet.

"I know now, what we both want the most. What made us who we are and what drives us even now."

Leaning close he whispered to Sylar, his breath puffing against dry lips as he spoke.

_Our wish to be accepted... for what we are._

His lips sealed Sylar's before he even had a chance to respond. Peter dearly hoped that he had found their common ground and that it was enough, because he had accepted Sylar a long time ago. Maybe even before he had gifted him with a new copy of his book while they had been trapped in a lonely nightmare.

As far as kisses went, well he could honestly say that this was the first time he ever kissed a male. He had also prior this moment never thought about doing it and the kiss sucked, big time. Sylar was frozen in place, their lips were split and dry and he could taste his own blood between them.

Then however he felt it: _heat_.

Searing hot heat, he usually associated with arousal or passion. It washed over him and then they were kissing properly before something itching ran alongside his hand interlaced with Sylar's. He just knew that it had worked. His task was done.

It was a good way to die.

Breaking the kiss he smiled at Sylar, a big lopsided smile that hopefully conveyed all his trust, all his emotions. Despite his inability to understand them currently, he was at peace with himself. Breathing out he leaned forward and rested his head on the naked bony shoulder, now that the distraction was over, the pain returned. He coughed and felt more blood drip from his chin, he watched it dripping onto Sylar's naked chest. A good way to die indeed. With that thought Peter stopped fighting his desire to sleep.

Breathing out he closed his eyes and let go. He never heard Claire's shrill screams in the background.

_

* * *

New York, 2006_

Peter's examination took almost two hours before either he or Angela were allowed to see him. By then he was already again under the effects of a strong sedative. According to the nurse he had screamed, pleaded and outright begged to be left alone as they had conducted the examination.

Nathan knew in normal cases the examination was to be stopped immediately. But this wasn't the norm, this was Peter Petrelli and Nathan would rather rot in hell than letting that bastard get away with what he had done to Peter. So they had proceeded on his word until one of the nurses couldn't bear to listen to Peter's pleas anymore and sedated him after having his bloodwork taken.

"So doctor what can you tell us?"

"As far as the SOEC kit goes, we have definite signs of rape."

Their mother flinched at that but the doctor paid it no heed and continued with his diagnosis.

"We have collected the clothes, blood -, urine and hair samples as well as the traces beneath his fingernails. Extragenital areas such as mouth, throat, wrists and thighs show signs of trauma as do the genital areas. Frankly speaking, it was a miracle that we didn't need stitches. We also found abrasions that could be scars. However, it can either indicate that he had anal sex prior to this incident or that it has been going on for some time. We cannot say for certain."

Nathan didn't how he was keeping the coffee down, but he did and it was a miracle. Even before the doctor had opened his mouth, he had felt sick to the stomach. A side glance at his mother showed that she was barely holding onto her own composure.

"We will do a test for STDs and send the remaining evidence to the police station."

"Officer McKinnon is handling the case. Here is his card."

The doctor didn't look surprised. He took the card and nodded briefly before allowing them to see Peter. Nathan didn't know if it was just him or did his mother dread seeing Peter as he did. He knew why, going into that hospital room would make everything real. He wouldn't wake up next to Heidi with a nightmare but had to accept that his brother would need him from now on. There was no telling how Peter would come out of this.

"Mrs. Petrelli, there is one more question I like to have answered."

They both stopped and waited for the doctor to voice his question.

"Was Mr. Petrelli ever before diagnosed with latrophobia?"

For a moment she looked confused before eventually shaking her head and Nathan could only agree. While Peter had always tried to avoid the needles when sick, he had never shown fear of medical personnel before, not like he had today.

"Not that I know of doctor. He is a hospice nurse. If he had a problem with medics, he would be working in the wrong branch."

Knocking slightly they entered the room. Peter was sleeping in a hospital bed wearing scrubs which had been provided after the examination. His face had regained some of his tanned color, lessening the severity the bruises. It was a false comfort. Nathan pulled a chair from the table in the corner and sat down, taking Peter's hand in his own. His hands and wrists had been bandaged but he could still see the discoloration where the fabric ended.

Angela followed suit, taking the other chair provided.

Her fingers were caressing her son's face and Nathan could see as her apathetic emotionless mask fractured. Peter really looked terrible, nothing like the man they both knew. He couldn't read his mother's thoughts but he knew that they both wondered if Peter would still be the vibrant man they both loved, when he woke up. Only time would tell and Nathan hated it. He was helpless and couldn't protect his brother as he had always done before. Now it was up to Peter and if the scene in his bedroom was any indication they were all in for a long ride.

"What are we going to do with him once he wakes up?"

"He should stay at one of our places until this is all over. Besides there is still the matter of his attacker. We can't be certain that he wont return. Tomorrow I will make sure that he is brought into a secure wing."

Stopping her motions, Angela regarded him for a few seconds, before resuming what she had been doing. Nathan simply watched Peter's face, finally not marred by an expression of pain. Unlike how he had looked inside his apartment hiding beneath a sheet in a corner.

"We'll need to be careful. Your run for congressman can either be made of fall because of this. There is no room for foul play or error. However no one will think anything of it if you add another point to your campaign."

"And what would you have me add?"

Now Angela looked at him like he was an idiot and Nathan felt like one, too. Whatever she had thought of, had to do with Peter and therefore with this situation. Yet he couldn't figure out, what she meant and told her so.

"Nathan, it's simple really. Peter's a Petrelli and our name carries quite a lot of influence over the police, especially with you as attorney. The police has already done more for him than they might do for most male rape victims. This type of crime is a taboo and the system is barely equipped to deal with it. Break that taboo, make yourself strong for more equality and a certain percentage of 4.5% of New York's population will thank you for it."

He studied his mother's face for a few moments, the room quiet save the equipment that monitored Peter's condition before he smiled. Nodding he excused himself briefly to speak with his campaign manager. Angela was left alone with her youngest child, who was still sleeping peacefully under the effects of the medication. Pushing his bangs to the side she studied his face, her fingers sliding over the bruised cheekbone.

Fury gripped her and she had to pull her hand away, lest she woke Peter or worse hurt him. Sharp polished nails dug into her purse as she took once more in what had become of Peter. It made her think of the dreams she didn't have anymore

_Dreams of fire and an exploding New York._.. just like they had planned.

It was no more, somehow the future had been changed. Peter would no longer explode and she didn't know whether to be grateful or angered that all their carefully laid-out plans had been messed up. The explosion had been supposed to unite the world and Nathan would have been the person to keep it all together.

But that future was no more and she didn't know why.

Despite dreaming every night she had yet to find out what had changed, she knew however the why.

_A man...or a woman..._

She knew that he or she was the reason that Peter would no longer explode and she was also certain that whoever he or she was, knew that she was searching for him. He might be a _dreamwalker_ as well. The dreams were too frequent, too rhythmic in their concision. No someone was manipulating them and she had no idea on how to stop it, she had long since lost control over them.

Most of the times Peter was the center figure in her dreams before others appeared around him in a specific pattern. Some she knew, Nathan's daughter Claire or the son of Chandra Suresh. Others were unfamiliar to her like the blond woman with a dark skinned man, a cop or a bespectacled Asian. They all stood around her youngest son until they all dissolved in nothing more than smoke, blown away by a breeze she couldn't feel. It was a sign she knew, but the knowledge of the meaning eluded her. Never before had she had symbolic dreams. She didn't know what to make of them.

Then he came, like a shadow closing in on Peter and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't see a face. Darkness slid over his form until he stood right behind Peter, towering over her son. Yet he did nothing and suddenly it was a woman behind Peter with her hands sliding over his shoulders, whispering something into his ear while she showed him something in her other hand.

_Shapeshifter, perhaps?_

Suddenly it would all be gone and he would be there, standing back to back with her. He had an incredible control over dreams. Angela couldn't move, couldn't speak, only wait.

"_Your plans wont come to fruition. I wont allow it."_

Just like that, like smoke and mirrors, he would be gone again and she could finally wake up.

Angela turned to the door as Nathan entered again, a satisfied expression on his face. In return she offered him a small smile before rising. It was time she got home. There were still preparations to be made. It was out of question that Peter would stay anywhere but their home.

"Will you stay in this room?"

"No, I spoke with the doctor again. Peter wont be awake for another 24 hours and I need to see how Heidi's doing. We can come back tomorrow morning."

"Very well, I will have everything prepared for Peter to recover at home. Also inform me as soon as the police clears his apartment. It will need quite a bit of work."

Nathan nodded and watched as his mother left. Wishing Peter a good night he left as well closing the door behind himself. Thinking he had heard something, Nathan turned around to come face to face with a small brunette woman in hospital scrubs. He noted that she looked like she was swimming in them, exposing more skin than covering. The woman offered him a smile before lifting a finger to her lips before she slowly passed Peter's room and disappeared in another corridor. Frowning at the meeting Nathan shrugged, it wasn't any of his business what the other patients were doing.

Walking away he never noticed that the door to Peter's room opened and small shadow vanished inside.

_

* * *

San Francisco, 2015_

Both Sylar's and Claire's attention was solely focused on Peter or rather Peter's body because that was all that was left of him. Sylar had known the moment he had seen that smile, full of hope and love. His empathy had flared in response but at the same time he had heard the rapidly failing heart beat. Nothing more than a broken rhyme reaching his ears, they had known better would die, just not how quick, not this quick.

Sylar carefully lowered him onto the ground next to him pushing the far too long bangs aside as he did so, almost a caress. Peter looked peaceful in death, a small smile gracing his lips and weren't if for the lack of breathing one might think that he was just asleep.

He wasn't though, but they hadn't lost hope. Peter's death had given them their only chance.

"Did it work?"

Turning his head around he came face to face with Claire. The young woman was less than two feet behind him, stark naked. Yet he felt no desire or passion pool in his gut at the sight of her beautiful unmarred body, instead he calmly met her gaze. Likewise she was equally unimpressed with him, having just finished regenerating, just as bare. After having both had died too often in fires, they had decided to only wear extremely flammable clothes. It was simply too much pain to be killed again during the the process of cutting the melted clothes from their bodies. It had been years since Claire's presence had done anything for Sylar but make him feel guilt. Though by now he knew that he alone wasn't to blame for the course Claire's life had taken.

"Yes, it worked. Peter did it."

They had placed their faith and fate in Peter's hands and he hadn't disappointed them.

Claire's face was without expression. Most would have thought that the news would fill her with joy but her lips were pulled in a hard line. His gift was understanding and he knew immediately that she begrudged him that he would be the one to save them all. It's a curious thing and reminded Sylar of someone nearly equally naive and self-righteous. But Peter had learned through pain, blood and sacrifice until there was nothing left but the bare bones of the man who had once saved a cheerleader to save the world.

His niece on the other hand had gotten many positive reactions up to the day she had been kidnapped. Afterwards she had spent years in an artificial coma while some sick scientist tried to find out what made her tick and used every bit of her body like some a freaking blood bank and organ donation. She had only learned of their war after Bennet and Sylar had broken her out of the facility she had been held in. While Claire wasn't to blame for her fate, Sylar still fully blamed her for continued pigheadedness when it came to the war.

"_Why don't we try negotiating?"_

She had been prepared to shoot Peter should he explode, even if Peter would have come back to life later. Claire had been prepared for murder. Or the time when she had crashed the car with that wannabe rapist inside. Not that he would have begrudged her the revenge she had sought. But it contradicted with everything else Sylar had ever heard from her. He had never understood why she hesitated when it came to normal humans.

Perhaps he wasn't meant to understand her.

It made him think of the tattoo that at one point had been resting on his lower arm depicting a girl that had only existed in Sylar's fantasy. But beggars couldn't be choosers and that time he had few options left. Many people hated him, too many.

"_Negotiation? Peter tried, he tried for years after you vanished. Want to know where it gotten him?"_

He got up and faced Claire. The gunfire had ceased for the time being, but probably only long enough for the humans to get their other equipment running. In no time the heat of the explosion would be gone and their temperature sensors would pick up on both him and Claire. One way or another they needed to leave, fast.

"We have to move."

Claire nodded but stayed where she was. Only as Sylar passed her did she act. Her fingers closed around his arm in an iron grip, stopping him from moving further. Facing her Sylar found himself surprised to see an unusually soft expression on her face. It only lasted seconds before it changed into something of determination and resolve. He watched as she strode over to a pile of debris and pulled something from behind it. Startled that some of their weaponry had survived the explosion, he tried to grab a rifle himself only to have his hand smacked away.

"What was that for, they'll be coming any minute."

She only glared and grabbed what looked like a grenade belt before hoisting the rifle over her bare shoulder. Sylar remembered packing them for ambushes. Listening to Claire's cursing he examined a pistol. It wasn't too badly damaged, merely the surface had quite a few scratches. Everything important, like safety, trigger, hammer and the barrel still seemed to be intact. It would have to do. There was another belt. Hastily he stuffed two clips of ammo into the loops before looking around.

"Seems as if none of our clothing survived. You think us being in the buff will throw them off?"

Claire didn't answer and for a second Sylar thought she had left. Yet her heartbeat was still clearly sounding in his ears. She couldn't be more than a few feet away from him. He turned his head to see her standing at the destroyed opening of their shelter and for a few moments he was reminded of a porn he had watched behind his mother's back during his teenage years, something about "Girls with guns". The former cheerleader still didn't wear anything safe for the grenade belt she had handled before. In her hands was a grenade launcher. Sylar had no idea that they even had one.

Her face showed nothing but grim determination. Sylar knew that expression. Claire was about to do something stupid.

"Sylar..."

Peter often had worn the same expression before throwing himself headfirst into danger.

"I forgive you."

Then she was gone, leaving a frozen Sylar behind.

_tbc..._


	4. the plan

**Fate, in the hand of men**  
- a Heroes story -

**Author**: ryuosen  
**Artist**: davinci's girl  
**written** for heroes bigboom  
**Genre**: Action, Drama, Angst, Scifi, Het, Slash  
**Rating**: R for violence, rape, language, sexual themes,  
**Summary**:  
Everything changed with Claire's dive off the Ferris Wheel, just not for the better. When life became unbearable, there was no choice but to rebel. Yet for all their power, they're still losing. With their last chance, Peter, the right man for the job, used Hiro's power to stop Claire from ever taking the dive. Pity that he got himself killed beforehand, leaving Sylar with the task. Pity that he died too...  
**Notes:**  
A big thank you to Ayou for listening to my ideas, whining and for kicking my ass, when it was necessary. To davinci's girl for the beautiful cover and the awesome fanmix booklet. Thanks a lot. It was great to work with you!

_Chapter 3_ - a plan 

* * *

New York 2006

* * *

Emma was still in shock as she sat on one of the many chairs in the area of examination room 23. She couldn't believe what had happened, the patient had woken up. Had woken up and grabbed her arms as if such things like muscle atrophy didn't exist. While she knew that all patients got their weekly exercises, it shouldn't be possible. In all her time as a medicine student, later a resident and now as a file clerk she had never heard of something like this.

Now she was waiting for doctor Miligan to finish his initial examination.

She had been given the day off while a nurse tried to reach the only living relative the man still had. At least now she knew his name. It was a weird name and reminded her of her youth but when she spoke it and watched the lights float in the air she couldn't help but think it beautiful.

It really had a certain ring to it.

Parting her lips she had just formed the first syllable as the door opened and the doctor stepped out. Quickly she rose and greeted him again, receiving a smile in return.

"How is he doing doctor?"

"Emma you know I cannot tell you that. You'll have to ask his mother when she comes in."

For a moment she looked disbelieving at the man, they both know that she had the clearance to simply read the file. But she's here out of concern and didn't want to snoop after the young man like she was some weird stalker. Sighing she let her shoulders slump. Alright then she would have to read the file.

"You know that he never had a visitor in all the years he's been here, don't you?"

"I know that Emma but the rules are in place for a reason. We both know that."

Then he handed her the file and left without a word. For a moment she was bewildered but eventually she opened it and glanced over the first page before slamming the folder shut again.

_Impossible!_

What she had just read there couldn't be possible even if he had heard everything over the years. It defied everything they knew about the brain. Shocked she sank onto the chair, she had occupied before. Ten minutes later she is still sitting there as the nurse came to tell her that the mother was in a nursing home with bad case of dementia. Her son had been lost to her a long time ago. Besides for her, he was still a child, even in her memories, not a grown man. She wouldn't recognize him anyway.

So they were back to the beginning, before he had woken up. A young man with no one to visit him. Resolutely Emma stood up, if there was no one to get to know this new person then she would be the one to do so. Looking at the file she knew that she wouldn't have an opportunity to visit now. The doctor had only left for a short break before the tests would resume. But tomorrow she promised herself, tomorrow she would visit.

Tucking the folder in its designated place next to the door she left. Life had thrown enough curveballs at her for one day. But tomorrow she would get her answers and she would find out how a man.. boy who she had never met before in her life knew her name.

* * *

San Francisco 2015

* * *

A sickening intake was all they heard as Claire returned to life. But neither paid attention to her. All they could think about was that Peter had been hit with shanti and that he was the one they counted on to travel back in time. But now they didn't have any antidote anymore to cure him. Besides Peter was also mortally wounded, the blood still dripping from the gaping hole above where his heart was, spoke silent volumes.

"You'll.. have to do it."

Peter had been the first to speak and it was the only solution he could think of. Sylar would have to take the ability with his empathy and then make the jump back. Slowly he crawled over to where the former serial killer propped against the debris, regenerating and still looking at him dumbfounded. Had it been any other situation Peter would have rejoiced in shaking Sylar's composure, but knowing that his death was imminent took the jest out of it quite well.

"I can't Peter, I have never been able to take an ability from you."

Luckily Sylar's head had already regenerated completely, the speed was incredible and even superior to Claire's. But at the moment Peter wasn't interested in that but the damning stubbornness that matched the one of the Petrellis any day. Didn't the other see that this was their only choice?

"But you n..need have to.. I can't."

And it was the truth, he felt already the effects of the virus. He couldn't do anything, least of all using his acquired power. Coughing he felt blood dribble down his chin and it only made him beg Sylar more. He hadn't used the look that Nathan had once upon a time called puppy eyes in years but now he gave it his best go. All to persuade Sylar, anything to change their fate. Peter knew that Sylar had come to the same conclusion as he had, however his concerns were also warranted.

Despite that they had known each other for years, seen each other at their best and worst, Sylar had never been able to empathize enough with him to take an ability. Not for their lack of trying either. Countless times they had sat together in one of their many shelters, always on the run but whenever they had the time they had tried. There had been countless situations and emotions used to establish a connection, starting with how both their mothers' had always expected more from them then they could give, that they both had loved Elle to that they were apparently the only specials able to replicate powers.

Nothing had helped, not this, not that. Eventually they had run out of ideas to try and stopped.

But now they had only one go before all was lost and Peter was desperately searching his brain for something they had in common which might connect them deeply enough. Sylar's expression mirrored his thoughts. He, too, was searching for something to empathize and turning up flat. In the background they could hear the machines that dampened their powers and Claire's coughing as her lungs repaired themselves.

Peter was once more perusing a route over his mother. She had after all shaped their lives in many ways.

Briefly he drifted back towards the day, when she had died, and did a double-take. His mother's filtered through his brain and only then he remembered that she had something about a key... she had known that he would die and he hadn't even realized it but what was the last word she had spoken?

He knew it had started with an _"A"_ but what had followed. Now he wished he had paid more attention after she had mentioned Hiro but it was too late now to cry over spilled milk. Wiping the blood from his mouth he studied Sylar. What else did they share that connected them, aside from their mothers, the nature of their power, their desperate need to act, to be the hero and suddenly it was right in front of his eyes and he laughed. Hacking and coughing, splattering blood over his skin as he realized that it had been easy the whole time, but they had been too blind to see it.

Where stemmed their need to be a hero from? Their wishes to be something special, to stand out against the masses?

Pulling himself closer to Sylar, grabbing one of his hands and interlaced their fingers, while ignoring Sylar's questions. Instead he pulled himself up until they were on one eye level. Looking into the brown colored depths Peter discovered to his own surprise that Sylar's eyes weren't just brown but had golden flecks in them, still they looked at him in confusion. Their strategic mastermind hadn't realized it yet.

"I know now, what we both want the most. What made us who we are and what drives us even now."

Leaning close he whispered to Sylar, his breath puffing against dry lips as he spoke.

_Our wish to be accepted... for what we are._

His lips sealed Sylar's before he even had a chance to respond. Peter dearly hoped that he had found their common ground and that it was enough, because he had accepted Sylar a long time ago. Maybe even before he had gifted him with a new copy of his book while they had been trapped in a lonely nightmare.

As far as kisses went, well he could honestly say that this was the first time he ever kissed a male. He had also prior this moment never thought about doing it and the kiss sucked, big time. Sylar was frozen in place, their lips were split and dry and he could taste his own blood between them.

Then however he felt it: _heat_.

Searing hot heat, he usually associated with arousal or passion. It washed over him and then they were kissing properly before something itching ran alongside his hand interlaced with Sylar's. He just knew that it had worked. His task was done.

It was a good way to die.

Breaking the kiss he smiled at Sylar, a big lopsided smile that hopefully conveyed all his trust, all his emotions. Despite his inability to understand them currently, he was at peace with himself. Breathing out he leaned forward and rested his head on the naked bony shoulder, now that the distraction was over, the pain returned. He coughed and felt more blood drip from his chin, he watched it dripping onto Sylar's naked chest. A good way to die indeed. With that thought Peter stopped fighting his desire to sleep.

Breathing out he closed his eyes and let go. He never heard Claire's shrill screams in the background.

* * *

New York 2006

* * *

Peter's examination took almost two hours before either he or Angela were allowed to see him. By then he was already again under the effects of a strong sedative. According to the nurse he had screamed, pleaded and outright begged to be left alone as they had conducted the examination.

Nathan knew in normal cases the examination was to be stopped immediately. But this wasn't the norm, this was Peter Petrelli and Nathan would rather rot in hell than letting that bastard get away with what he had done to Peter. So they had proceeded on his word until one of the nurses couldn't bear to listen to Peter's pleas anymore and sedated him after having his bloodwork taken.

"So doctor what can you tell us?"

"As far as the SOEC kit goes, we have definite signs of rape."

Their mother flinched at that but the doctor paid it no heed and continued with his diagnosis.

"We have collected the clothes, blood -, urine and hair samples as well as the traces beneath his fingernails. Extragenital areas such as mouth, throat, wrists and thighs show signs of trauma as do the genital areas. Frankly speaking, it was a miracle that we didn't need stitches. We also found abrasions that could be scars. However, it can either indicate that he had anal sex prior to this incident or that it has been going on for some time. We cannot say for certain."

Nathan didn't how he was keeping the coffee down, but he did and it was a miracle. Even before the doctor had opened his mouth, he had felt sick to the stomach. A side glance at his mother showed that she was barely holding onto her own composure.

"We will do a test for STDs and send the remaining evidence to the police station."

"Officer McKinnon is handling the case. Here is his card."

The doctor didn't look surprised. He took the card and nodded briefly before allowing them to see Peter. Nathan didn't know if it was just him or did his mother dread seeing Peter as he did. He knew why, going into that hospital room would make everything real. He wouldn't wake up next to Heidi with a nightmare but had to accept that his brother would need him from now on. There was no telling how Peter would come out of this.

"Mrs. Petrelli, there is one more question I like to have answered."

They both stopped and waited for the doctor to voice his question.

"Was Mr. Petrelli ever before diagnosed with latrophobia?"

For a moment she looked confused before eventually shaking her head and Nathan could only agree. While Peter had always tried to avoid the needles when sick, he had never shown fear of medical personnel before, not like he had today.

"Not that I know of doctor. He is a hospice nurse. If he had a problem with medics, he would be working in the wrong branch."

Knocking slightly they entered the room. Peter was sleeping in a hospital bed wearing scrubs which had been provided after the examination. His face had regained some of his tanned color, lessening the severity the bruises. It was a false comfort. Nathan pulled a chair from the table in the corner and sat down, taking Peter's hand in his own. His hands and wrists had been bandaged but he could still see the discoloration where the fabric ended.

Angela followed suit, taking the other chair provided.

Her fingers were caressing her son's face and Nathan could see as her apathetic emotionless mask fractured. Peter really looked terrible, nothing like the man they both knew. He couldn't read his mother's thoughts but he knew that they both wondered if Peter would still be the vibrant man they both loved, when he woke up. Only time would tell and Nathan hated it. He was helpless and couldn't protect his brother as he had always done before. Now it was up to Peter and if the scene in his bedroom was any indication they were all in for a long ride.

"What are we going to do with him once he wakes up?"

"He should stay at one of our places until this is all over. Besides there is still the matter of his attacker. We can't be certain that he wont return. Tomorrow I will make sure that he is brought into a secure wing."

Stopping her motions, Angela regarded him for a few seconds, before resuming what she had been doing. Nathan simply watched Peter's face, finally not marred by an expression of pain. Unlike how he had looked inside his apartment hiding beneath a sheet in a corner.

"We'll need to be careful. Your run for congressman can either be made of fall because of this. There is no room for foul play or error. However no one will think anything of it if you add another point to your campaign."

"And what would you have me add?"

Now Angela looked at him like he was an idiot and Nathan felt like one, too. Whatever she had thought of, had to do with Peter and therefore with this situation. Yet he couldn't figure out, what she meant and told her so.

"Nathan, it's simple really. Peter's a Petrelli and our name carries quite a lot of influence over the police, especially with you as attorney. The police has already done more for him than they might do for most male rape victims. This type of crime is a taboo and the system is barely equipped to deal with it. Break that taboo, make yourself strong for more equality and a certain percentage of 4.5% of New York's population will thank you for it."

He studied his mother's face for a few moments, the room quiet save the equipment that monitored Peter's condition before he smiled. Nodding he excused himself briefly to speak with his campaign manager. Angela was left alone with her youngest child, who was still sleeping peacefully under the effects of the medication. Pushing his bangs to the side she studied his face, her fingers sliding over the bruised cheekbone.

Fury gripped her and she had to pull her hand away, lest she woke Peter or worse hurt him. Sharp polished nails dug into her purse as she took once more in what had become of Peter. It made her think of the dreams she didn't have anymore

_Dreams of fire and an exploding New York._.. just like they had planned.

It was no more, somehow the future had been changed. Peter would no longer explode and she didn't know whether to be grateful or angered that all their carefully laid-out plans had been messed up. The explosion had been supposed to unite the world and Nathan would have been the person to keep it all together.

But that future was no more and she didn't know why.

Despite dreaming every night she had yet to find out what had changed, she knew however the why.

_A man...or a woman..._

She knew that he or she was the reason that Peter would no longer explode and she was also certain that whoever he or she was, knew that she was searching for him. He might be a _dreamwalker_ as well. The dreams were too frequent, too rhythmic in their concision. No someone was manipulating them and she had no idea on how to stop it, she had long since lost control over them.

Most of the times Peter was the center figure in her dreams before others appeared around him in a specific pattern. Some she knew, Nathan's daughter Claire or the son of Chandra Suresh. Others were unfamiliar to her like the blond woman with a dark skinned man, a cop or a bespectacled Asian. They all stood around her youngest son until they all dissolved in nothing more than smoke, blown away by a breeze she couldn't feel. It was a sign she knew, but the knowledge of the meaning eluded her. Never before had she had symbolic dreams. She didn't know what to make of them.

Then he came, like a shadow closing in on Peter and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't see a face. Darkness slid over his form until he stood right behind Peter, towering over her son. Yet he did nothing and suddenly it was a woman behind Peter with her hands sliding over his shoulders, whispering something into his ear while she showed him something in her other hand.

_Shapeshifter, perhaps?_

Suddenly it would all be gone and he would be there, standing back to back with her. He had an incredible control over dreams. Angela couldn't move, couldn't speak, only wait.

"_Your plans wont come to fruition. I wont allow it."_

Just like that, like smoke and mirrors, he would be gone again and she could finally wake up.

Angela turned to the door as Nathan entered again, a satisfied expression on his face. In return she offered him a small smile before rising. It was time she got home. There were still preparations to be made. It was out of question that Peter would stay anywhere but their home.

"Will you stay in this room?"

"No, I spoke with the doctor again. Peter wont be awake for another 24 hours and I need to see how Heidi's doing. We can come back tomorrow morning."

"Very well, I will have everything prepared for Peter to recover at home. Also inform me as soon as the police clears his apartment. It will need quite a bit of work."

Nathan nodded and watched as his mother left. Wishing Peter a good night he left as well closing the door behind himself. Thinking he had heard something, Nathan turned around to come face to face with a small brunette woman in hospital scrubs. He noted that she looked like she was swimming in them, exposing more skin than covering. The woman offered him a smile before lifting a finger to her lips before she slowly passed Peter's room and disappeared in another corridor. Frowning at the meeting Nathan shrugged, it wasn't any of his business what the other patients were doing.

Walking away he never noticed that the door to Peter's room opened and small shadow vanished inside.

* * *

San Francisco 2015

* * *

Both Sylar's and Claire's attention was solely focused on Peter or rather Peter's body because that was all that was left of him. Sylar had known the moment he had seen that smile, full of hope and love. His empathy had flared in response but at the same time he had heard the rapidly failing heart beat. Nothing more than a broken rhyme reaching his ears, they had known better would die, just not how quick, not this quick.

Sylar carefully lowered him onto the ground next to him pushing the far too long bangs aside as he did so, almost a caress. Peter looked peaceful in death, a small smile gracing his lips and weren't if for the lack of breathing one might think that he was just asleep.

He wasn't though, but they hadn't lost hope. Peter's death had given them their only chance.

"Did it work?"

Turning his head around he came face to face with Claire. The young woman was less than two feet behind him, stark naked. Yet he felt no desire or passion pool in his gut at the sight of her beautiful unmarred body, instead he calmly met her gaze. Likewise she was equally unimpressed with him, having just finished regenerating, just as bare. After having both had died too often in fires, they had decided to only wear extremely flammable clothes. It was simply too much pain to be killed again during the the process of cutting the melted clothes from their bodies. It had been years since Claire's presence had done anything for Sylar but make him feel guilty. Though by now he knew that he alone wasn't to blame for the course Claire's life had taken.

"Yes, it worked. Peter did it."

They had placed their faith and fate in Peter's hands and he hadn't disappointed them.

Claire's face was without expression. Most would have thought that the news would fill her with joy but her lips were pulled in a hard line. His gift was understanding and he knew immediately that she begrudged him that he would be the one to save them all. It's a curious thing and reminded Sylar of someone nearly equally naive and self-righteous. But Peter had learned through pain, blood and sacrifice until there was nothing left but the bare bones of the man who had once saved a cheerleader to save the world.

His niece on the other hand had gotten many positive reactions up to the day she had been kidnapped. Afterwards she had spent years in an artificial coma while some sick scientist tried to find out what made her tick and used every bit of her body like some a freaking blood bank and organ donation. She had only learned of their war after Bennet and Sylar had broken her out of the facility she had been held in. While Claire wasn't to blame for her fate, Sylar still fully blamed her for continued pigheadedness when it came to the war.

"_Why don't we try negotiating?"_

She had been prepared to shoot Peter should he explode, even if Peter would have come back to life later. Claire had been prepared for murder. Or the time when she had crashed the car with that wannabe rapist inside. Not that he would have begrudged her the revenge she had sought. But it contradicted with everything else Sylar had ever heard from her. He had never understood why she hesitated when it came to normal humans.

Perhaps he wasn't meant to understand her.

It made him think of the tattoo that at one point had been resting on his lower arm depicting a girl that had only existed in Sylar's fantasy. But beggars couldn't be choosers and that time he had few options left. Many people hated him, too many.

"_Negotiation? Peter tried, he tried for years after you vanished. Want to know where it gotten him?"_

He got up and faced Claire. The gunfire had ceased for the time being, but probably only long enough for the humans to get their other equipment running. In no time the heat of the explosion would be gone and their temperature sensors would pick up on both him and Claire. One way or another they needed to leave, fast.

"We have to move."

Claire nodded but stayed where she was. Only as Sylar passed her did she act. Her fingers closed around his arm in an iron grip, stopping him from moving further. Facing her Sylar found himself surprised to see an unusually soft expression on her face. It only lasted seconds before it changed into something of determination and resolve. He watched as she strode over to a pile of debris and pulled something from behind it. Startled that some of their weaponry had survived the explosion, he tried to grab a rifle himself only to have his hand smacked away.

"What was that for, they'll be coming any minute."

She only glared and grabbed what looked like a grenade belt before hoisting the rifle over her bare shoulder. Sylar remembered packing them for ambushes. Listening to Claire's cursing he examined a pistol. It wasn't too badly damaged, merely the surface had quite a few scratches. Everything important, like safety, trigger, hammer and the barrel still seemed to be intact. It would have to do. There was another belt. Hastily he stuffed two clips of ammo into the loops before looking around.

"Seems as if none of our clothing survived. You think us being in the buff will throw them off?"

Claire didn't answer and for a second Sylar thought she had left. Yet her heartbeat was still clearly sounding in his ears. She couldn't be more than a few feet away from him. He turned his head to see her standing at the destroyed opening of their shelter and for a few moments he was reminded of a porn he had watched behind his mother's back during his teenage years, something about "Girls with guns". The former cheerleader still didn't wear anything safe for the grenade belt she had handled before. In her hands was a grenade launcher. Sylar had no idea that they even had one.

Her face showed nothing but grim determination. Sylar knew that expression. Claire was about to do something stupid.

"Sylar..."

Peter often had worn the same expression before throwing himself headfirst into danger.

"I forgive you."

Then she was gone, leaving a frozen Sylar behind.


	5. to plot, to protect

**Fate, in the hand of men**  
- a Heroes story -

**Author**: ryuosen  
**Artist**: davinci's girl  
**written** for heroes bigboom  
**Genre**: Action, Drama, Angst, Scifi, Het, Slash  
**Rating**: R for violence, rape, language, sexual themes,  
**Summary**:  
Everything changed with Claire's dive off the Ferris Wheel, just not for the better. When life became unbearable, there was no choice but to rebel. Yet for all their power, they're still losing. With their last chance, Peter, the right man for the job, used Hiro's power to stop Claire from ever taking the dive. Pity that he got himself killed beforehand, leaving Sylar with the task. Pity that he died too...  
**Notes:**  
A big thank you to Ayou for listening to my ideas, whining and for kicking my ass, when it was necessary. To davinci's girl for the beautiful cover and the awesome fanmix booklet. Thanks a lot. It was great to work with you!

_Chapter 4_

* * *

NewYork, 2006

* * *

The face staring back at him was all wrong.

Carefully he explored the forehead, the eyebrows, the nose, mouth, cheeks and chin. He was in dire need of a shave. Did he even know how to shave? He couldn't remember ever having done it before and yet he could, dozens of times, a daily ritual. The razor sliding over his skin with meticulous precision and care. Then times where shaving was the last thing on his mind.

_Only hide, escape, don't let them catch you..._

Hell he didn't even know his own name. Which was his true one? Who am I?

_Gabriel..._

_...Sylar_

_... what or who is a Sylar?_

His hands wandered instinctively to his left wrist and came up empty. Weird, he had been sure that his watch would be there. But what watch, he despised wearing them and always complained when his mother made him wear one, especially the old one from his dad. It ran twenty to thirty minutes late. Who would want to wear a watch, that didn't show him the right time?

Sliding his right hand down his neck, he felt an unfamiliar bump he knew to be his Adam's apple but since when was it so distinct. Continuing his exploration he noted with surprise that he had a patch of hair on his chest but didn't that start growing during puberty? Did that mean that he wasn't twelve anymore? But of course not, there were images of himself, of a strong jaw without baby fat, of stubble that Elle loved so much.

_Elle? Who is that?_

There was also hair below his navel leading towards... he pulled his hand sharply away. His mother had always said it was bad to touch himself there, but his mother wasn't here at the moment. How should she find out. Carefully his fingers slid past his navel and had barely reached his pubic bone as a voice disrupted the exploration of this foreign body.

"Mr. Gray, are you finished?"

He nodded before remembering that the nice nurse couldn't see him through the closed door.

"In a minute."

Using the washcloth provided he hastily dipped it into the bowl provided and lathered himself with the soapy water. However he underestimated his own force and the bowl toppled over the rim of the sink. Like in slow motion did he watch as the first drops of water flew in the air and onto the floor. One of his fingers twitched like in reflex and it all stopped.

Slowly the bowl hovered over the ground before floating back onto the sink without having one drop of water spilled. Like a movie rewound.

Frightened he stumbled backwards, fingers clawing at the door until it opened without him ever touching the knob. He nearly fell over the nurse, a man who had introduced himself as Cedric, but was caught before they hit the ground.

"It floated and I nearly spilled it all, but it didn't. It floated."

Cedric looked at him with a small smile but he identified the emotion in his eyes: _pity_.

"I'm sure you just had a bad dream Mr. Gray, Gabriel. Remember I told you that your medication has side-effects. I fear hallucinations are one of them. No come, time to get into your gown again and then back to bed."

_My name is Sylar!_

With a start he realized that he was still naked. He should feel shame he knew, but there was nothing. With some sort of bizarre calmness he waited until Cedric brought him one of those linen gowns the hospital provided for the patients of the free clinic. Having no idea how to pull it on he waited for the nurse to help him, which Cedric did.

Minutes later he was back in his own bed in a small room with white walls. He didn't like them. It was far too sterile.

_What does sterile mean anyway?_

Looking around he found a small book on his nightstand. Either Cedric or someone else must have left it for him. It was a history compilation. Opening the cover he found a small message written in it.

_Dear Gabriel, _

_to make your new life a little bit easier... _

_Cedric_

Smiling he looked at the index until he reached the year when everything had changed. His finger slid over the the different years until he found it, near the middle.

_1989.._

Memorizing the page he skimmed through the book until he found it.

Quite a few things had happened in 1989. The Soviet Union had fallen? Germany was now one country and no longer divided. Ronald Reagan had been replaced by George H. W. Bush?

The name brought an image to his mind.

A man standing in front of a tank with spyglasses in his hands.. the image was followed by a word. _Iraq war _

There was a war in Iraq, but why. Turning a few more pages, he reached the year 2003. Reading the unfamiliar words, his breath caught. Right next to the text was the image that had been floating around in his head. The current president George W. Bush, the son of former president George H. W. Bush. Closing the book, he huddled under the sheets.

_What's happening?_

_How do I know those things..._

Something was seriously wrong with him and he didn't mean that he suddenly looked so different from before. Not even the floating bowl in the bathroom. It made him remember the pretty woman who had been there when he had woken up.

_Emma.. she plays cello!_

He had only seen her from behind, yet he had called her by her given name. Even though they had never met before. There had to be an explanation for it. He was sure, everything had an explanation. He understood explanations. Perhaps he had heard her name during his coma and had associated it with her voice. But he didn't remember hearing anything during his sleep. What was happening...

Trying to calm himself he started to hum a melody, though he had no idea where it came from. But it was calming, soothing him. Closing his eyes and curling up he slept.

Only to rip them open, screaming in terror. Hands were pressing him down, sounds, voices were exploding inside his head with the force of a steam train, making him try to cover them to soothe the agony. He didn't know what was wrong with him but he wanted it to stop. Panting loudly he attempted to pull away only to have strong hands holding him in place.

"Strap him down. He's hyperventilating. Elena a sedative, quick!"

_No! No one would ever trap him again... _

The images were foreign and crashed over him like a tsunami. His eyes rolled up, back arching, muscles stiffening with fingers clenching around the sheets.

_Pain, pain, painpainpainpain.. __blood.. a wall.. a man... naked.. blood.. mother's screams..._

It was everywhere and for a brief moment all he could see was stone.. walls made from stone, a glass window, a steel door and a slab to sleep on. His head felt like mush, a tumbled mass invoking images, sensations, emotions without pause.

A pained screech brought clarity, if only for a brief moment.

"Doctor!"

A man, wearing a white coat, was pinned to the wall opposite the bed.. four feet above ground. Fear seared through him, they couldn't find him. No, he'd given himself away. They couldn't find him... couldn't catch him... then everything was black. He didn't notice as the doctor landed in a heap on the floor or that the nurse was staring at him with something akin to wonder.

Unaware of everything Gabriel Gray slept his enforced sleep.

* * *

_Ney York, 2012_

* * *

Never in his life he had felt so numb, not even when his memory had been stolen and he had been left with just a passport and a picture. But now he did, like all his energy had been zapped from him. It reminded him of the day his father had taken his powers, he had felt empty then too. But not like this.

This was definitely worse, his father had ripped something from him that was essentially a part of his mind and body. Empathy had defined him, shaped him and the decisions he had made over the course of his life. The ability had bonded him with people and made him empathize with them. Suddenly without it, understanding them had been hard and he had learned his lesson when he mistook Nathan's actions more than once.

But for all his father had done, he had never degraded him to the level of a specimen, of something less than human. Now he was just that, an experiment, a toy for some researchers to play with. He couldn't honestly think of it as research or even science in general. What they were doing was cruel, just plain cruel and the worst thing was that he had agreed to it and would continue to agree. All to keep the precarious peace between the specials and the humans.

But the legislation had stated that all specials had to submit to their monthly check-ups in order to be allowed to live amongst society. For him that would in the future include more tests about his "empathy".

It made him wonder whether it would have been better to tell the truth from the start. It wasn't as if his ability was dangerous. At least not as long as he didn't absorb an offensive one. He could have chosen a simple one, like Emma's and probably gotten away with the lie. They still would have placed him on the list, _another goddamn list,_ of the TYPE 01 specials and he could have continued his work as a paramedic without anyone the wiser.

Against all odds he hadn't, instead he had given them the information about his old ability or at least partly. His mother had once told him that the machines inside the Company had only been able to detect his empathy but not the part responsible for absorbing others' powers and she had made sure that the little piece of information stayed out of his file. But the fact that there was an existing file had made him cautious. Without knowing how much the government had already known about him, the truth had been better. At least until now.

Peter chuckled. It sounded bitter even to him.

Until some scientists had decided to see if the emotions of others' could influence him. Of course they couldn't but the scientists weren't convinced, not yet. Never before had he been grateful that his father had stolen a vital part of himself, his empathy.

Today he was, standing in front of his father's grave. The real one where an actual body had been buried.

For the first time in years he was glad he wasn't a real empath anymore. Who knew what reactions he might have experienced during the test, if he had been. Considering that his control of his powers had always been a very delicate matter, deeply tied to his emotions, he already knew how he would have reacted. A destroyed lab would have been the least of the government's worries. It was likely that he would have destroyed the whole city and then his mother's dream of an exploding New York would have belatedly come true.

His fingertips followed the lines etched into the stone until he had traced the full name once.

_Arthur Petrelli_

Such a simple name for a very complexly layered man. The memories of him as a father had been nearly forgotten and none struck him as important. Nathan had taken the place in his life that should have been his father's long before he had been old enough to understand. Now the old memories of his childhood had faded away leaving nothing but rough sketches behind.

Sparing Arthur's grave one last glance he turned around and left. He had to walk slowly to conceal the limp that had become quite noticeable over the last two hours. The painkillers they had given him after the _torture_, he refused to call it anything else, had lost their effect during the first hour. They had advised him to go home immediately and sleep, had even gone as far as to attest to his physical state for his employer. He could take the next six days off and heal.

Peter didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

After Claire had jumped off the Ferris Wheel they had all been so optimistic, he remembered Sylar standing next to him and telling him that it would be a _Brave New World._ The title had stuck. The day when the specials had revealed themselves to the world was still known as the _Brave New World day _and in the beginning it had been just that. Many followed and revealed themselves. There was a woman who could fly, like Nathan when he had been alive, children being able to breathe underwater like fishes without having gills and many more.

The people were awed by the things they could do.

Of course the wonder and euphoria hadn't lasted. It never did. Only few weeks had passed before the first religious groups commented on the event. Of course, specials weren't blessed by god, no they were inhabited by the devil. Luckily they were laws in place that protected them, otherwise the witch burning might have made a comeback. Most ignored the churches words, but it dimmed the elation Claire had created.

The scientists were next. They claimed that the specials should be examined and use their gifts for the good of mankind. Days later a law was passed that forced every citizen of the USA to take a DNA test. If the specials didn't want to show themselves, they would be forced and if that hadn't been bad enough, the next announcement sure was.

An old colleague of Chandra Suresh stepped forward and revealed the history of Coyote Sands and its consequences.

It was the moment of revelation for them, they needed to leave or there might be a repetition of Coyote Sands. None of them were very trusting of the President's assurance that it wouldn't happen. A flood of emigrants was the next event. People left, giving up wealthy existences, leaving non-special relatives behind. It didn't matter, they all wanted to get away to leave the country which had just found out about them.

News had traveled fast, suddenly there were specials in all countries over the world. Some welcomed them, some hated them on sight.

Positives notices by the UN were awarded to the Netherlands, the Swiss and ironically enough Germany. Over 60 years later they still paid for the sins of their ancestors. It didn't come as a surprise that they would take the gentlemen approach. Two World Wars were enough for them. Negative ones went to the Arabian countries. Their strict religion made living there an impossibility. Reports about people dying at the borders reached them in waves. It was pretty clear that they wanted to leave their home just as much as they wanted here.

Not that it were all, some were prepared to fight for their rights.

_Like me..._

While Claire had become the spokesperson of the specials, it had been the support of him, her girlfriend and her family that had kept her going right up to the day she had been kidnapped. The following police investigation had been sloppy only reinforcing his belief that the government's patience had snapped. Instead of waiting for their laws to cage Claire, they had simply kidnapped her. A belief Noah Bennet had shared with him and as rallying the specials and the public didn't work, he went into hiding. Reasons for the lack of sympathy were somewhat understandable, a special had robbed a bank a day prior the kidnapping and killed twelve people during the coup. Not that Bennet had cared, he was gone, presumably to find Claire on his own.

He had been the one left behind. Now alone to fight their battles.

_I am in over my head.._

And he was, but he had still tried. However he wasn't Claire, a beautiful young woman who would never die, he was _just_ Peter Petrelli.

It had hurt to realize that once again he wouldn't be good enough, he couldn't measure up to Claire. The public found him lacking despite everything he had given up. He and Emma had been one of the first specials who had registered their data as the law went into effect. They hadn't protested after Peter had lost the debate for the color coded bracelets that proclaimed how dangerous a special was.

Peter had done everything to keep the peace, to assure the remaining population that they weren't dangerous just different.

_Up until now._

His fingers fiddled with white bracelet that enclosed his right wrist. But he stopped immediately as he caught the disgusted expression of a man sitting two seats to the left opposite to him. Then the man stood and left before sitting down at the other end of the wagon. Peter suppressed a sigh.

_Now_ white only meant that he was a _special_ with a _non-damaging _ability. Basically he was supposedly as harmless as any human but even then he was hated.

Leaning back he all but sank into his seat. His jaw still hurt from the punch, his wrists were sore from straining against the shackles and the rest of his body was on fire because the abuse he had undergone. He felt dirty, Peter realized, like he had been tainted with some tar like substance that clung to him persistently.

_I need a shower!_

The line of thought was unexpected but suddenly it was what he wanted, no _needed,_ the most. A part of his mind was shouting at him, that he should go to Emma, admit himself into hospital. He was a paramedic, how many raped girls and the occasional boy had he treated that he now ignored all procedures taught to him? As soon as he stood under the shower, all evidence would be useless and he could never report it.

_As if they'd believe me anyway._

It was the crux of the whole thing. Who at the police station would take him for full? He was a special, they were treated badly since the discovery of the crimes some of them committed. Then there was the fact that despite his own opinion it had officially been consensual. He had agreed to the tests and there was a written consent in his file. Would it really interest anyone when he protested that _rape_ should never be included in the tests, would the police agree with him? Questions, non-invasive tests were fine but that had been invasive, degrading even.

Noticing that the tears were threatening to fall again, he hastily stood and went to the door, ignoring the sharp pain that went through his body. The stop was his anyway and needed to think about something else, otherwise he might just break down in front of the whole ridership of the subway. He couldn't let anyone see his weakness, not when he still had a speech to make which hopefully would finally introduce a party of specials in their government. As long as he got that, it was worth to endure everything. Only a small reward for all sacrifices he'd made.

Was that too much to ask?

Remembering the man's reaction and many others like it, he knew it might as well be.

* * *

_New York, 2006_

* * *

Nathan was dead on his feet as he finally made it home. The emotional roller coaster he ridden today had seemingly drained every bit of energy from him.

After leaving the hospital he had made a small stop at his campaign center and ensured that his manager had done exactly as he had ordered. He had also called a friend who worked as a journalist. The information he had received didn't bode well for him or Peter. One of Peter's neighbors had witnessed the whole debacle from the beginning. As in starting with him running into the apartment and screaming for his brother in panic. Broke as he was, had gone to the press with it.

Nathan fully expected to be on the front page of _the times_ tomorrow. Everything having to do with the Petrelli's was interesting these days, even if it was his younger brother. With him running for Congress and being behind in the polls, a scandal was what the hyenas that called themselves reporters were looking for.

Fearing the worst, he had called the hospital again and ordered them to move Peter in a secluded secure room. Nothing would interfere with his brother's recovery. That he would ensure. They had to be careful though, regardless of what kinds of adjustments he wanted to make. If the public thought he had the police playing favorites, the reaction could be the opposite of what he wanted to achieve.

_Sometimes you have to take a risk.._

Nathan didn't like gambling. He preferred to analyze a situation beforehand and stack all odds in his favor before making his move. This time he couldn't do that. He had no idea what would be printed, only the certainty that something would be published. With Peter being the main attraction. The thought alone is enough to make him grind his teeth in suppressed anger. It's the last thing he now needed. The last thing they need.

"Nathan?"

The sound of his own name was enough to break him out of his conflicting thoughts. Lifting his head, he had to look down seconds later. Heidi in her wheelchair couldn't stand on eye level with him anymore. Instead he sank to his knees and greeted his wife, kissing her briefly on the mouth.

"You shouldn't have stayed up for me. I nearly wouldn't have come home at all."

Placing his jacket on a hook he followed Heidi back into their new bedroom. After their crash it had been moved onto the ground floor. Nathan was still silently mourning the loss of the comfortable room upstairs but Heidi had trouble with stairs, even with the whole house adjusted to her needs.

Closing the door behind them, he watched as Heidi, already wearing her nightgown, pulled herself onto the bed. He made no move to help her, knowing it wouldn't be appreciated. Ever since the accident, she desperately wanted to prove that she was still capable of taking care of herself and even the children. Nathan had tried to be understanding at the beginning and give her the space she deserved but eventually it had all but cooled their relationship. Nowadays she was more of a deep friend than his wife.

"Your mother said that something happened to Peter."

Nathan froze. His fingers clenched around the tie he had just loosened and swallowed. How should he answer her. Heidi was involved in planning the strategies for his campaign, though out of the spotlight due to her handicap and the wheelchair. He had known that he would have to tell her about the adjustments he had made in the campaign goals and unlike his employes she had a right to hear the truth from, not some newspaper article. But how could he tell her what happened to her brother-in-law? She adored Peter, just like their children did.

"It's bad isn't it?"

The tie fell from his hand and onto the dresser as Nathan sat down next to Heidi. Sighing he took her hand in his, studying the way they fit together. His tanned longer fingers enclosing Heidi's pale delicate ones. She was tense but prepared for whatever he would tell her. Moments like this reminded of the reason why his father introduced them to each other. Why he had married her.

_Because Heidi was ruthless, logical and stubborn. _

It had never been love between them, at least not the kind that most romance novels spoke of. Their relationship had been based on mutual attraction and respect, allowing them to have two beautiful children and support each other, but not _real love_. At least on his part, if the numerous affairs he'd been having over the course of their marriage were any indication. He didn't know if Heidi had ever done the same but he liked to believe that she was faithful to him, which was all things considered not very fair to her.

Nathan was a Petrelli though and he would take what he could get.

"...worse."

More silence as he let go of her hand and resumed pulling off his clothes. Heidi was watching him. He could feel the weight of her stare at the back of his neck. Knowing her like he did, she was already working out what _worse _meant. The shirt he had worn today ended up on the dresser too and for once he couldn't bring himself to be tidy.

"Will he be okay?"

Concern tinted her voice and Nathan wanted to laugh. Did she really think that? Instead he kept quiet, undoing his belt and pushing both slacks and briefs down. Stepping out of them he opened the dresser and pulled a set of pajama bottoms out of one of the drawers. Heidi didn't say anything as he left the clothes where he had dropped them. Under normal circumstances he would be getting an earful, but now she stayed quiet. Before he knew he was back sitting next to his wife.

"I don't know. Heidi, I don't know."

There was the helplessness again, coloring his voice. He felt the anger return but forced it down with difficulty. Heidi was concerned, she had nothing to do with the whole affair. Snapping at her would only complicate their already shaky relationship. Another thing he couldn't afford so close to the election.

He nearly flinched as he felt gentle fingers touch his forehead before groaning in relief. The fingers dug into his skin and the dull pounding that had been paining him the whole day started to fade. Feeling the tips of her fingers move over his skin he let himself relax. Moments later his head was pillowed on her lap as she continued to massage him.

"Tell me what happened."

At first he didn't react to the gentle command, didn't want to. But Heidi had to know one way or another and as he already knew, she would rather hear it from him than read it in a newspaper tomorrow morning.

He couldn't afford to procrastinate any longer. No matter how much he wanted to forget the images of his brother huddling in a corner under a blanket. Hoping it would protect him from the horrors that threatened him.

"We don't know how it happened yet. What we know is that someone literally beat the shit our of Peter and ..."

Stopping Nathan had to suppress his laughter. Never once in his life had Nathan been at a loss for words, except maybe that one time when Peter had announced that he signed up for nursing school. But given that had also silenced his parents he could excuse that one time. Pulling away he sat upright again. For a second he mourned the loss of comfort of intimacy but at the same time the feeling of vulnerability also vanished, leaving him in control of everything.

"He was raped."

The sudden silence was deafening and Nathan didn't want to look at Heidi, so he kept his eyes firmly on the photos on the dresser. He remembered when each of them was taken. To the left were the oldest and to the right the newest. The last had been taken by Peter. He had driven them to the airport and surprised them by snapping a photo only moments before they were supposed to be checking in. Their surprise caught on glossy paper. Heidi's expression showed pleasure despite the huge eyes and parted lips, a bit too wide for it to be intentional.

"He'll be okay..."

She had leaned close and gave him a small kiss on the cheek as her hands cupped his jaw. His head was forcefully turned to her and she met his wary gaze with one of her resolute stares. The other hand enclosed his.

"..because he wont be alone. There will be your mother, me, the children and you. Peter will have all the help in the world. You'll give him hope like you have given me hope."

Nathan searched her face for any lies and found only sincere honesty. Seemingly from nowhere a knot tightened in his chest, stringer tighter with each thought that spilled through his mind. His affairs, the lies about appointments and most importantly his lack of support for his wife who was stuck in a wheelchair. And Heidi honestly believed what she said. She was sure of his steadfast support.

He had no idea what was prompting him to act, to pull her close. Carefully mindful of her limp legs he draped her over his lap in a gesture of affection he had probably never used before. She looked at him questioning. Her hand frozen on his face.

"No, I'll do better. I haven't been there for you as I should have. I should have thought more about your comfort instead of the election and here am I planning to exploit my brother's misery for my campaign."

It wasn't what he had wanted to say, neither did Heidi expect it. Her body suddenly tensed against his and she pushed away from his chest, resting on his legs as she stared at him with fire in her eyes. There was the woman he met years ago on a business dinner hosted by his father's office, all fire and spirit. Qualities that had been pushed in the background as she had married him and exchanged one infamous family name for another. Then their children came and he had stopped seeing her as anything else but the mother of Simon and Monty.

He hadn't seen a woman any longer.

Sharp pain surged through his shoulder where Heidi's nails had dug into his skin, demanding his attention. Licking his lips briefly, he proceeded to tell Heidi of Angela's idea and his agreement and the adjustments made to the campaign. The room was silent save for Nathan's voice with his wife silent on his lap.

"You understand, don't you? As soon as the paper is out tomorrow morning Peter will be the prime target for every idiot allowed to publish an article. We have to prevent that."

Light blue eyes watched him and Nathan tried very hard not to fidget under the calculating stare. He remembered the habit well. Whenever he would get nervous he would start to pull at the cuffs of his shirts. He didn't wear a shirt right now, but his hand moved on autopilot and had crossed the way to his wrist before his mind caught up with his body. Pulling his hand away he awaited the verdict she would make.

His own gaze fell on the full bottom lip that Heidi bit with her teeth as she mulled over what he had told her. Her brows furrowed and he dimly remembered that it meant she had found a point that she disagreed with. Meanwhile Nathan couldn't figure out for the life of him why he suddenly desired her again.

_Are the memories causing this...?_

It had been years since he had thought of the Heidi he had once met. Perhaps it was the reason, perhaps not but Nathan can't bring himself to care. His hand was stroking over Heidi's shoulder and felt more than he heard the gasp as she sucked the air in. Obviously surprised by his attention.

"Tomorrow, tell me about your ideas tomorrow."

With that Nathan leaned forward and kissed her, tilting her chin to fit them together. Meanwhile his hand wandered from shoulder to collar bone before cupping a firm breast as fingertips grasped the hair at the back of his neck. Hearing a sigh, he knew that Heidi enjoyed his attention. It made him feel even more of an asshole. After her accident he had never even attempted anything sexual with her. Hell, he had never thought about it.

"...Na..than... my legs.."

Pushing his hand under the silky nightgown, he pulled the garment over her head separating them briefly. Before she knew it he had adjusted their positions with Heidi lying on top of him. Her blue eyes were dilated, pupils blown black by lust as she watched him. Nathan could feel her thighs moving to on pull his pants down. Prior their accident she would have used her feet, but now that wouldn't work anymore. Not that she didn't know how to improvise and Nathan hissed at the feeling of her thighs clenching and unclenching.

"We'll work around it."

His voice hadn't sounded this hoarse in a long time but as well manicured nails closed around his cock, Nathan decided that it was entirely unimportant. It was the last clear thought he had for coming hours.

* * *

_New York, 2010_

* * *

Peter smiled as he watched Claire speak with the dozens of reporters who had surrounded her. She was smiling brilliantly, while waving her arms around when she wanted to emphasize a point. Tearing his gaze away he wondered where Sylar had ended up. After his weird comment about a _Brave New World _he had seemingly vanished. His gaze wandered over the many visitors still occupying the grounds surrounded by the various colorful tents, but he couldn't see the former serial killer anywhere.

Not that he didn't trust Sylar, he knew that there was nothing to worry about. He would never have to kill another being again.

Still he was worried that he might run into Bennet or other companions which had yet to learn about Sylar's last change of sides. And it was the last one, from now on they would fight together.

_Perhaps Emma knows where he is?_

Emma had last been near the Ferris Wheel speaking with Ian something. He had forgotten the last name but Emma had introduced them minutes after Samuel had been arrested and escorted to the police car. Ian had been among the people Hiro had brought to safety. A few had even greeted Sylar, which had prompted him to explain that he had spent some time at the carnival and had been baptized as one by Samuel. Something Peter couldn't imagine, but with the proof right in front of his eyes, he had simply accepted it and moved on.

Looking around Peter tried to make out Emma in the crowd but the place by the Ferris Wheel was deserted. Sighing he resolved to ask the next carny he saw. It turned out to be Edgar and Peter was spared from asking because next to him was Sylar. Both completely focused on whatever they were discussing.

"I don't like this, but the idea has merit. With Lydia g..go.. gone and Samuel arrested we need to assure everyone, that for us, nothing will change."

"I knew you would see things my way."

"Don't expect the others to whoop with joy..."

"About what? Whoop with joy about what?"

They both turned to face Peter as he reached them. Edgar scrutinizing him with suspicion but Peter was used to that. Sylar in contrast was studying him intensely, eyebrows furrowed with his mouth pulled into a frown.

"Guys, what is this all about?"

"We'll be leaving Peter. Both the carnival and I, come tomorrow morning, will be gone and nothing will remind anyone that we were here."

"What?"

Sylar sighed, his hand carding through his hair briefly before his eyes strayed to Edgar. The carny gave him a baleful look before leaving them alone. Peter furrowed his brows before turning his attention back to Sylar.

"What do you mean?"

"Simple, I have spoken with Edgar and a few other people from the carnival. Given the current situation it is better if I lay low for now. I'm still a wanted serial killer. I think I even saw Agent Audrey Hanson a few minutes ago. While she doesn't know my face, she knows enough and bad publicity is the last thing we currently need."

Peter watched as Sylar's gaze wandered over to where Claire was still standing, Bennet now at her side, obviously reluctantly answering questions as well. The naked longing in his friend's eyes pained Peter. During their years together he had learned so much about him, had seen him at his worst and tonight at his best. It almost seemed ridiculous that the one thing he most desired was acceptance. To belong, though Peter couldn't clearly understand why he thought to have that from Claire. She would probably never forgive him. Still he wanted Sylar to be happy and he was probably right.

Claire's dive had revealed them to the world in a spectacular way. Dampening the euphoria with the news that some of them were vicious killers wouldn't be good. Hell they had managed to convince the police that Samuel had attempted to kill the people with his rides instead of special powers. And if the Agent really was here, then Sylar needed to be gone as soon as he could.

"You'll be staying with the carnival?"

Sylar only nodded. Before shifting again, nervous energy betraying his anxiety. While he still looked composed for the most part, Peter knew that he was itching to leave. Attention of this kind wasn't something Sylar wanted, at least not anymore.

"During my last stay here I managed to learn the secret to Samuel's compass and the way the carnival stays hidden. Because of that I wanted to stay, even if some of the carnies will be cross with me. We argued over the leadership position. Edgar's a good man but he isn't exactly a leader. They will vote I expect."

"He doesn't like you."

"I think my brief affair with Lydia is the main reason for his dislike. But with her not being in the picture anymore, it might get better. What about you? Will you come with us?"

It was a startling offer and Peter hadn't expected it, though he understood that it wasn't just for his comfort but also for Sylar's sake. He wanted a familiar face around. Turning his head he watched as Noah finally shooed the reporters away and knew that while he would like to come with Sylar, he couldn't. Claire would need all the help she could get and that included his own.

"I can't. Claire will need help."

It spoke of Sylar's knowledge of him that the serial killer and Peter still sometimes thought of him as that, didn't pursue the matter but nodded in acceptance. He didn't look happy but kept his thoughts to himself. Peter appreciated it.

"I'll make you a compass then and send it to you as soon as I have finished it. So that you'll find us if you need help. We'll be glad to give it."

"Thank you."

Spotting Emma amongst the group moving towards them, he offered Sylar a brief hug. Sylar stiffened against him and Peter didn't know who was more surprised Sylar or Peter himself. Still he relaxed seconds later and tightened his arms briefly around Peter's waist before letting go and stepping back. Turning his head Sylar gave Bennet a short nod, eyes lingering on Claire who glared at him and Sylar alternatively. Her disapproval was clear, though Peter didn't know if it was because he had hugged Sylar or for having brought him here in the first place.

"Peter! Are you alright?"

"I'm alright."

"What's he doing here?"

Of course, it would be Claire to ask that question. She made no secret of her hatred for Sylar. Though Sylar didn't react in any shape or form to her question. It was like he was made of marble, cold and unyielding. Peter frowned, he didn't like it when the other concealed his emotions. It made it hard to read him and he had grown used to the openness between himself and Sylar.

"Sylar's here, because I brought him."

Claire's expression darkened, no surprise there but Peter ignored it and briefly related his mother's and his own dreams. He left out that he had to save Sylar first from Parkman's mental prison. It wouldn't do for Noah to get ideas. Peter had no illusions about Claire's father. The former agent wouldn't hesitate to put Sylar right back from where Peter had broken him out.

"Then we came here to save Emma and stop Sullivan."

Emma pushed forward, she'd been in the back of the group. Smiling she nodded at Sylar before standing next to him.

"And he did save me."

Sylar looked like he wanted to say something but kept his silence in the end. Instead he stuck his hands in the pockets of his coat. A habit Peter recognized, he usually did it when he was nervous or trying to hide his discomfort. Though for everyone else he probably appeared to be casual and uncaring. They couldn't be farther from the truth if they tried.

Claire looked like she wanted to say something, but a sharp glance from Noah kept her quiet. Peter didn't want to have this conversation, it would only end up in an argument he couldn't win. The stakes weren't in Sylar's favor and would never be. He had done too much to too many of them for it to ever be right again. Neither Peter or Sylar could change the past, only Hiro could and as far as he knew, the other man had lost that ability too.

Each and everyone of them had made their bed and now had to lie in it.

And truthfully, with the exception of Nathan's death, Peter wouldn't have it any other way. Because he had seen the future, good and bad and there had been one where Sylar had reverted to Gabriel Gray and raised a young child. He had liked that future, even if he had been a wanted terrorist. He had a family then, perhaps not the one he had known but another one just as loving. He didn't want to destroy the chance of Sylar having that again and maybe, just maybe he would be part of that family too.

Sadly he couldn't say that to Claire, he didn't want her to know that there was a possibility for her to be capable of cold-blooded murder. Instead he said something else.

"Parkman has seen inside Sylar's head and found no ill will towards anyone of us, neither an urge to kill."

With the exception of Bennet but Peter couldn't bring himself to blame Sylar for that. The older man was entitled to hate the man responsible for the fall that started a killing spree. Not that it had been easy to see the rope in Gabriel Gray's shop, in fact for a brief moment, as he had realized the implications, his heart had stopped. That had been in their second year together and at the beginning of the third he had been ready to speak with Sylar.

"And you trust Parkman?"

Bennet was suspicious, as always but he wasn't in the mood for more discussion. His body was tired and his mind weary. He hated it when people he cared about, fought with each other.

He cared about Sylar.

Someone up there was laughing at him. God really must have a wry sense of humor to make him care about the person who had taken his brother from him. But he did and whining about it wouldn't do him anything good. Not when they had to present a united front to the rest of the world.

Now more than ever before.

_tbc.._


	6. awakening

**Fate, in the hand of men**  
- a Heroes story -

**Author**: ryuosen  
**Artist**: davinci's girl  
**written** for heroes bigboom  
**Genre**: Action, Drama, Angst, Scifi, Het, Slash  
**Rating**: R for violence, rape, language, sexual themes,  
**Summary**:  
Everything changed with Claire's dive off the Ferris Wheel, just not for the better. When life became unbearable, there was no choice but to rebel. Yet for all their power, they're still losing. With their last chance, Peter, the right man for the job, used Hiro's power to stop Claire from ever taking the dive. Pity that he got himself killed beforehand, leaving Sylar with the task. Pity that he died too...  
**Notes:**  
A big thank you to Ayou for listening to my ideas, whining and for kicking my ass, when it was necessary. To davinci's girl for the beautiful cover and the awesome fanmix booklet. Thanks a lot. It was great to work with you!

_Chapter 5_

* * *

_New York, 1989_

The ground was rough and uneven beneath his cheek. Groaning in discomfort he lifted his head only to be blinded by the sun. With effort he rolled onto his back. A searing impulse assaulted him and he realized he had rolled onto the sharp darts that had been stuck in his back. Now they were buried. Damn it

Not the happiest of landings but he was glad that it had worked at all. For a brief moment he thought he had failed. It had literally taken every ounce of will he had left to get his body to move and with that the power Peter had gifted him.

It was like being dumped in cold water, all of a sudden his mind was clear and he could think again.

He couldn't lie around, Sylar needed to get going. Stiffly he pushed himself off the ground and got to his feet. Swaying with pain and dizziness, he used telekinesis to remove the darts from his back.

It took minutes to extract them all, his power responding sluggishly as if he was drunk. Though that was entirely impossible as he couldn't get drunk anymore. Only one explanation made sense. The effects of the antidote against shanti were lessening. It would explain why it had taken so long for the telekinesis to kick in, when it normally responded even to subconscious wishes.

He had to act fast.

Their future rested on him and on the fact that he changed the past. He needed to find Peter. Yes, he was his best chance of accomplishing his goal. Peter should at this point still have his empathic ability, he would give him the Lie Detector ability and then tell him about the future. He had to realize that the rest of the world could never know about them. If push came to shove he would show him his own future and the suffering he would essentially endure for nothing.

Sylar didn't want to do it but he would. He owed his Peter that. He, who had suffered for them all to make it work and nearly was destroyed for it.

But first he needed to know what date it was...

Focusing briefly on his own ability, he froze. Now that he concentrated he could feel it and wondered why he hadn't sensed it earlier. The shanti had to be a lot more potent that usually, for him not to have noticed immediately.

It wasn't January 2006... no he was in January 1989.

How could that be? Sylar knew how Hiro's ability worked, could understand the intricate patterns the ability contained, right down to the genetic code that was included in Hiro's DNA. After acquiring an ability, he only needed to have it for minutes before he intuitively knew how to use it. But this time it had failed and he didn't know why.

Coughing he whipped his mouth angrily, only to start as he noticed the bloody smears in his palm. Claire's ability was failing too, he wasn't healing properly anymore.

Numbly his hand rested against his abdomen. The skin torn, like he had gotten into a fight with a savage animal and lost. For the first time in years he felt pain, real agonizing pain that tore through his being. Screaming he doubled over, nearly falling to his knees. He braced his body against a wall.

_Where was he?_ He needed to get help, fast. It couldn't be all for nothing. Slyar couldn't fail.

Looking around, he knew that he should recognize the area, but he couldn't seem to concentrate. New York, yes he was in New York. He knew that at least.. and Queens. He had landed in Queens, the place most familiar to him. Trying to muffle his screams, he took his surroundings and then he knew where he was. Somewhere in the area was also a hospital, yes he remembered.

Now he just needed to get there, somehow.

Pushing off the wall, he took a step. More blood seeped from the whole in his stomach and he nearly fainted from the pain. Leaning back, Sylar thought about his options. One thing was clear, the wound was fatal and with his failing healing he couldn't hope to reach the hospital in time. Walking was out of question.

"HELP, hello I need help. Is anyone there."

His voice croaked at the end and he noticed how dry his throat was, his tongue parched. No, he couldn't fail. Not when they had risked everything to come this far. Peter's and everyone's sacrifices couldn't have been for naught.

"Sir?"

Raising his eyes Sylar locked gazes with a child. The boy couldn't be old, younger than a teenager but not a toddler either. In school already, there was a backpack next to his feet. The boy could bring help.

"You are hurt."

Brilliant deduction, what was that with him and kids. Even Luke hadn't been that annoying.

"Yes, go get help."

Great now the boy was flinching, small fingers clutching his glasses and pushing them up his nose. He needed to calm down, if the child ran off, it wouldn't do him any good. He still needed help and currently the boy was the only chance of saving him.

"Sorry, you need to go get help. I'm hurt."

Finally the child nodded and ran off, the backpack forgotten at the opening of the alley. Cushioning his head against the wall, Sylar could only hope, that the boy returned quickly. His breathing was getting heavier and he tasted copper on his tongue. His time was running out. To distract himself he studied his surroundings, taking note of the dark bricks of the house, the cold dirty concrete below and the fire escape that twisted upwards over his head.

It was all so very familiar. He should have known that no matter how long and hard he tried to run, somehow his past always caught up with him again. He found it somehow very fitting, he had been born in Queens with the death of a telekinetic and now he would most likely find his end here too. Sylar had never been a fan of irony, but this he could almost appreciate.

The only thing he hadn't studied, was the backpack of the kid. It laid there innocently, forgotten in the quest to help. If he survived he would have to thank the boy. Though at the moment the odds weren't in his favor. He could hear footsteps, someone was running and coming closer. Then something caught his eye, something he almost hadn't seen and his mind froze at the implications and chances. Immediately an idea popped up in his head, offering him an alternative.

But could he do it?

"Mister, I found help."

Suddenly the boy was in front of him. Almost as if he had teleported there, though he knew that was impossible. Dark innocent peered at him questioningly, searching approval Sylar realized with a start. Already at this young age, the boy wanted nothing more than to be accepted. That meant that the boys' father was already gone. How old was he, eleven, perhaps twelve.

_Yes_, he could do it.

_All for the greater good._

Intuition whispering in his head, offering the outcome, as Sylar gathered his telekinesis. And as if sensing the sudden danger, which was very much possible, the boy tried to back away. Only to find himself frozen on the spot. Hissing in pain, as he forced his body to move, Sylar slammed the child against the wall, he had been resting against. The action drew a shrill scream from the boy's throat and Sylar had no longer enough control over his ability to muffle them.

His sight slid out of focus and he had to shake his head. Hopefully it would work, otherwise, it was really all for nothing.

Bracing one arm against the wall, he raised the other, finger already outstretched. He was shaking with pain, exhaustion and even fear. It all was up to him and he couldn't do much more. Positioning his finger, he focused on drawing a line across the youngster's forehead. Only to be interrupted by another scream, though this one was clearly female. Tearing his gaze away from the young terrified face he met the horrified gaze of a very familiar woman.

The backpack, which she probably had picked up before she saw them, was dangling from her hands. Sylar knew what it must look like. A naked man with blood all over his body holding a child against a wall. He had been associated with many synonyms in his life, but never pedophilia. Yet he made no efforts to diffuse the situation. Instead he pointed his bloody hand at her. Her face paled even more and then she was running away, screaming for the police, sounding hysterical. At least she was smart enough to recognize her own helplessness.

He needed to hurry up. There was no way, that he could finish this and keep another person pinned. It was after all a miracle that he was still standing and not already dead on the floor. Sheer will kept him alive for the time being, but Sylar knew that even that wouldn't be enough anymore and soon. With one last glance at the empty alley, he turned his attention back onto the task at hand.

The child was terrified, his glasses had slipped off his nose and big tears were running down his face. It was a heartbreaking sight and for a brief moment Sylar considered aborting the operation. Nothing would be the same if it worked and he had learned a long time ago that being special wasn't all what it was cracked to be. Then Peter's face appeared before his eyes wearing that lopsided smile full of happiness, Claire's expression when she forgave him, Bennet's when he agreed to work with for a better future and lastly Emma's gentle smile after they'd kissed for the first time; Sylar knew that he wouldn't stop.

"For what it's worth, .. I'm … sorry."

Shrill screams pierced the area but he ignored it all. All his concentration was focused on getting the task done. His finger was shaking, his body too exhausted to function properly and it showed as the usually clean cut looked more like a snail's path. Still it did the trick. He had to stop halfway through the procedure, delegating concentration on staving off the blood flow of his young victim lest he died due to shock or blood loss.

The boy was no longer screaming, only sobbing, now and then releasing choked moans of pain while tears still dripped down his face. It looked like some kind of grotesque art. Though there had once been a time, when he would have appreciated it. But now it just made him sick.

Finally he was finished, the scalp came off easily and his brain was laid bare for him. Now there was only one thing left to do. His eyes focused completely on the brain that was in front of him, his ability kicking in. Then his fingers began to work, with the knowledge in mind that this would be his legacy. The whole thing was hilarious anyway and made him want to either weep or laugh, he wasn't so sure. Bennet would have appreciated it.

He knew the exact moment when his healing powers finally failed completely. Apparently the pain had been dulled before, now it wasn't. Stars exploded before his eyes and he nearly sacked to his knees before determination and sheer stubbornness kept him upright. Though he rested even more weight on his arm against the wall to lessen the strain on his telekinesis.

Sylar was focused enough that he noticed the car and by default the police officers too late. Their car was jamming the alley, two of them cowering behind opened doors with the windows down to make shooting possible. The "FREEZE!" was echoing in his head along with the pounding of his own blood. He flicked his hand at them, irritated. The effect was immediate, the car flipped over to the horror of both officers. One was quick enough and evaded the projectile as it landed on the ground, the other wasn't so lucky. Cracking noises assaulted his ears, making him clench his eyes shut while his hand worked from memory.

Fingertips nudged against the cerebrum, caressed the Temporal lobe, causing new protein chains to emerge spinning them into the right shapes and places to nurture new neurons and their connections. Then he created a small link to the Occipital Lobe, ensuring it would do its work as it should. Visuals were important after all. Connecting paths between all four lobes was harder than he imagined. But then again he had never attempted something like this before and was crossing bridges when they came. A bridge into the Parietal Lobe as well as the Frontal Lobe and it was done. He was finished.

The boy was gurgling unintelligible, spitting blood at his feet. The eyeballs had rolled back inside his head which was stained with fresh and congealed blood. It had dripped all over the clothes and made for a disgusting sight. If Sylar didn't know it any better he would have thought the boy to be dead. Only the hacked irregular breathing belied the belief. Grabbing the scalp he put it back on the open head, taking care to fit it correctly. His fingers hadn't even let go of the dark hair as something hit him.

He staggered and with a sense of odd displacement, did Sylar watch as his arm sank to his side. The child collapsed on the ground, body twitching in irregular intervals. Had his telekinesis failed? Then he noticed the pain in his head, worse than before. His body hit the ground with a dull sound.

Then there was nothing left of him. All he could do now was hope.

He didn't notice the surviving police officer reloading his gun after he had emptied an entire clip in the former serial killer's body, nor did he see as an ambulance arrived. The boy was put onto a stretcher and wheeled away while the new arrived reinforcements circled around the still body before checking for a pulse. None was found.

Later on the same day a younger Angela Petrelli would read about an attack on a twelve year old boy in the evening paper. She would note that some of the statements made by the surviving officer and witnesses were conflicting and the whole thing sounded suspiciously like the work of a special. Her interest would linger briefly on the fact that the boy, who had suffered a stroke and was currently in a coma he wasn't expected to ever wake from, had been covered in blood. Yet the paramedics had found no wounds to explain the amount of blood. Then Peter would barrel into the room, anxious to show off the picture the had drawn of their family and Angela would forget the issue again. As would everyone but the woman who had lost her son.

The John Doe, had been cremated, after the police found nothing on him and been buried in one of the many graves that the state had for cases like this.

Sylar had died and no one was there to mourn his passing. Hiro Nakamura's prophecy had come true after all.

* * *

_New York, 2012_

_Steve's ink and images _wasn't the cleanest tattoo studio Peter had ever seen but he hadn't expected it to be, not when it was located in the worst area of Queens. Though truth to be told, he didn't know what he had expected. After returning home yesterday, he had wasted no time in looking up the address which had been left for him. The location hadn't exactly filled him with confidence and subsequently robbed him off his sleep that night.

Having woken up more than a little cranky, Peter had for a brief moment contemplated on ignoring the signal. Then as if someone had been watching him, his phone beeped to announce the arrival of one new message.

It had been from _rebel_.

For a few minutes he had stared at the display in shock. Rebel, Micah had vanished months ago after agents of the FBI had tried to apprehend him at his aunt's place. Due to the lists from the Company he had been on their most wanted list, but had somehow managed to evade capture.

The message contained nothing but a time, but he had already known where he had to go. So he had left the apartment minutes later and flagged a cab down. Had it been a normal day Peter would have winced at the amount he had to pay for the ride, but as it was he had currently more money saved up than ever before.

Peter stood motionless in front of the small studio for a few minutes before he summoned the courage to open the dingy door and step through it.

Inside it was even darker than it had appeared from the outside. Dozens of photos decorated the walls, obviously displaying past works. In each and every one of them is another body part the focus of the camera. Some of them were grotesque, others were too cute but some of them looked divine. Whoever the artist of this studio was, he had talent. The harsh light of the lamp burned over him, painting him pale in the unforgiving light.

"Next!"

The voice startled him and he looked around until he came face to face with an old man, at least in his fifties. He was bald, slim and wore something that probably was straight out of "Bondage weekly" but it was the utter lack of body paintings that startled him. He had only met one other tattoo artist, but that one had been wearing his tattoos like a second skin. Barely any inch had been left bare.

"You wanna strike roots over there? Find my studio that cozy."

His voice sounded rough, like someone had lined his throat with sandpaper and the vocal cords were continuously whetted over them. It caused shivers to run down his spine. The voice reminded him of someone else with a quite a gravelly voice. Not knowing how to react he walked over to the man, but kept a certain distance. At least now he knew why he hadn't noticed him earlier. The door was plastered with photos as well and had slid into the wall. Neat trick Peter had to admit.

"Name!"

"What?"

The man glared, before rolling his eyes and throwing his arms up. Peter thought he could distinctly hear something about "idiots" and "stubborn" before the man eyed him again. This time the bulky arms, which could probably crush him, crossed before his chest. The bleached hair shone like a halo in the harsh light.

"So my name is Steven Wonder, owner of this wonderful establishment and you are."

"Peter Petrelli"

And damn, he shouldn't have said that. His name was currently infamous in his ongoing fight for more rights for the specials. In the supermarket only a block from his apartment they refused to sell him anything because of it. Yet the man only grinned, even the smile was crooked, thanks to a scar that marred the left side of his face. But he could see the approval in the dark eyes, somehow Peter felt warmed by it.

"Petrelli, hmm interesting but glad to hear that my customer is finally here. I have been waiting."

With that Peter found himself being pushed into the adjoining room, where a chair made up the center of the room. Two small tables on wheels were already standing close by as he was pushed towards the chair.

"One special coming right up. What are you waiting for? A written invitation? Sit down."

He was being pressed onto the chair by hands the size of small plates. Watching the man, Steven, like a hawk Peter waited for him to say something about Sylar. But nothing came instead he busied himself with getting his equipment ready. Steven seemed pretty serious about wanting to tattoo Peter.

"So where is it?"

Peter blinked, his bangs obscuring his face. Now what?

"If you are trying to impress me with your puppy dog eyes, I gotta tell you it's not working. I have got three daughters at home and they are way sweeter than you. So where is that tattoo I'm supposed to renew. Don't tell me it's on your butt."

He blinked some more in confusion but lifted his arm anyway. Pulling the sleeve up to reveal his compass tattoo. No matter how hard he had tried, he had been unable to get the needle to move. Steven barely reacted, just took his arm with a gentleness that was belied by his appearance. His eyes wandered critically over the patch of skin before he met Peter's gaze.

"Whoever did that was sloppy. Look at the lines, blurry and don't get me started the colors. How much have you paid for that."

"Nothing."

"Still too much, but no worries. You are in good hands now."

Then the needle was pressed into his skin and Peter had to force himself not to flinch. Ever since the medical exams had begun, he abhorred physical contact in most forms and needles. The poking and prodding bothered him too. Yet he continued to go back for more, he wondered if that made him a masochist.

Time passed and Peter watched as the man inked the compass anew. He added some details in the background, straightened lines and renewed the colors that had faded after Samuel had done the tattoo. It looked like new. Steven cleaned his hands with a rag

"So that's done. Now you can be the hero again instead of the villain."

His head snapped faster after the man than Peter could even think. But Steven was already waving him off. Then he vanished in the depths of the remaining rooms and Peter was unwilling to follow him without a plan. But he forgot about Steven in ten seconds flat as he noticed something on his still bare arm.

The needle was _spinning_!

He stared. The compass was working, it was working! It was nearly unbelieving but there was proof in front of his eyes. Now there was nothing stopping him from meeting with Sylar. Only as he had already left the tattoo studio behind, did he remember that he hadn't paid for the service. But as he returned to the studio Peter only found a run down building. There were no traces indicating that something resembling a tattoo studio had ever been there. Frowning Peter resolved to ask Sylar as soon as he got the chance.

The needle under his skin was still spinning.

* * *

_New York, 2006_

His room was dark as he awoke and with the exception of the beeping noise of the ECG completely silent. Tilting his head to the side, he noticed that the doctor had restrained him. Thick strap held his arms to the bed. To keep him from hurting himself or to keep him from hurting others?

It was of no consequence.

Purposefully he pushed the sheets aside without ever raising his hands. The straps unbuckled without noise and then he stood on wobbly legs. Balancing his body for a few moments he attempted to regain his center of gravity. With small steps he walked over to the mirror that had been placed opposite his bed. Studying his reflection he grinned, shark like, as memories, images crashed into his brain with the force of a tsunami. Gritting his teeth he sucked his breath in between clenched teeth as he was closing his eyes and waited.

His ability working, letting him understand everything. It had been an ingenious move, he had to admit. One had to think of something so outrageous in the first place, though either Bennet? or even Parkman might not have been so surprised, considering that they knew he could let his mind jump in between different bodies. With dismay he realized that he couldn't fit the two sets of memories seamlessly together, at least not immediately. It was all too fresh for the lack of a better expression. This brain had spent years in silence and non-activity. It would take time and training to get it back to his old shape.

A setback, though a small one, nothing harmful either, he just would have to be careful with his reactions.

Yet... It was good to be back.

Then the features shifted until Ada stood before him, nearly drowning in the now far too big hospital gown. Not that she gave a damn, first she needed to find out where she was. The small glitch during traveling back shouldn't have widespread consequences but it was better to be save than sorry. She would need to study newspapers, seventeen years worth of them.

_Joy!_

His gaze rested on the compilation, touching it he concentrated and absorbed the history of the book. Long practice had made it possible to absorb the printed words too. Tilting his head he browsed over the memories until she could confirm that nothing major had been changed by his arrival.

_As if the world would revolve around you, Gabriel.._

The voice sounded surprisingly like Bennet and for a moment he wondered what happened to his former partner, the one in the future that now would never happen. He would make sure of it. The current one was probably still working for the Company together with the Haitian.

René, the Haitian, he could become a problem. In all the years Sylar had never found a way to negate his ability, though with enough concentration he could overcome it. The last time he had done so was shortly before Noah had put a bullet into his former partner's brain. That had been a challenge and quite a vicious fight. But for now he wouldn't encounter them. Later he could think about how to handle them. For now he had other plans and he supposed he should also check up on his mother.

Opening his door Ada peered around to corner to see that the corridor was empty. Good, it would make things easier. Besides as soon as he got clothes for Ada, he could leave. At least for a while. Considering the condition he had been in, they wouldn't release him right away. Not until he had proven that he had not only adapted to the body he now had, but also the time. He would need to finish school in some way. Hell, he had never made it out of primary school. A small chuckle escaped him as Ada walked along the corridor.

Manipulating time was a wonderful thing, she could go anywhere and not be missed at all. Though she should probably test it before attempting to transport herself somewhere. The first attempt had shown him exactly just what could go wrong. For a moment the image of a small boy floated in front of her eyes, his expression of agony with big tears trailing down his face. Hastily she stuffed the memory into the back of her mind. She would have to be careful with the memories.

Closing her eyes, Sylar recalled the mechanics of time, the feeling as he had used it for the first and final time after Peter's death. A prior unused part in his brain flared to life and time reacted. It felt like being sucked in by something, before being caught in a void, absolutely weightless. The only experience he had to compare was being grabbed by telekinetic grip and being thrown around.

Everything spun, people walking past her through him until the sensation ebbed away, leaving her dizzy. Quickly she steadied himself on the wall. After a few moments the spinning feeling had left. Ada stopped her movement as she saw one of her persons of interest walk away from her position. Even with just the back visible, she realized who it was.

_Nathan Petrelli_

Extending her telekinesis, she wrapped a tendril loosely around his arm before using clairvoyance. Hissing she canceled the connection a second later. Nathan's emotions seeped into her conscious and she just knew that a headache would be the least of her problems later. But she got the gist of his worries.

Peter.. he was in hospital, in the very room Nathan had just left.

Without thought she made enough noise to attract the attention of the older Petrelli. Remembering that this man didn't know Ada let alone Sylar, she offered him a smile before making the universal sign for _keep quiet. _Letting Nathan think that she was just escaping from her room or something along those lines. The older Petrelli could fill the gaps with his own imagination. But it would be important that he knew this form later on, she could feel it.

After waiting until the sounds of footsteps had disappeared he opened the door and slunk into the room. Sylar wasn't prepared for what awaited him.

_tbc.._


	7. villains

**Fate, in the hand of men**  
- a Heroes story -

**Author**: ryuosen  
**Artist**: davincis_girl  
**written** for heroes_bigboom at lj  
**Genre**: Action, Drama, Angst, Scifi, Het, Slash  
**Rating**: R for violence, rape, language, sexual themes,  
**Wordcount**: ~ 40000  
**Summary**:  
Everything changed with Claire's dive off the Ferris Wheel, just not for the better. When life became unbearable, there was no choice but to rebel. Yet for all their power, they're still losing. With their last chance, Peter, the right man for the job, used Hiro's power to stop Claire from ever taking the dive. Pity that he got himself killed beforehand, leaving Sylar with the task. Pity that he died too...

**Notes:**A big thank you to Ayou for listening to my ideas, whining and for kicking my ass, when it was necessary and to davincis_girl for the beautiful cover and the awesome fanmix booklet. Thanks a lot. It was great to work with you! A link to the artwork can be found in my profile under the story, along with the fanmix.

The story is complete with a prologue, 6 chapters, epilogue and will be updated every Wednesday.

_Comments/critics are appreciated!_

* * *

New York, 2011_  
_

* * *

Noah Bennet was in trouble, well more so than usual. After the fucking US government kidnapped his little girl he had done what any father in his situation would have done. He had gone underground, became a wanted terrorist and was trying to find his little girl himself. Sadly so far with only little success to show for it. There had been quite a few close calls but it seemed that tonight his luck had run out.

During a infiltration of a new medical facility, one of the guards had seen and recognized him immediately. Being on the most wanted list of the FBI, directly behind Sylar, had its disadvantages, such as that some wannabe guards who had probably never killed anyone in their lives tried to shoot him now. Fighting specials had been far easier, they at least had been self-assured and most of the time relied completely on their powers, making them easy targets. But these guards? No chance, all of them normal and all of them used machine pistols.

If the storage area hadn't such thick steels and concrete pillars he would already have as many holes as a Swiss cheese. Though he was also very much aware that he couldn't escape much longer. His ammo was already dwindling and there were only so many hiding places he could use to ambush them. Soon they would see through his game and he would either be forced to adapt or find new means. If his ammo didn't run out beforehand.

Throwing himself behind another crate, Bennet heard as the projectile punched through the thin wood. But it didn't exist the wooded box. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief, that had been far too close. Using his nighttime goggles, he took aim and shot another one of those bastards. Now the way to the exist was free again.

Listening carefully for movements and noises of the remaining guards, he took the risk and ran.

Exclamations and screams of outrage reached him but he kept on running. Then bullets joined the chorus and he was hard pressed to always hide behind another crate or pillar. He could already see the exist as he noticed a movement from the corner of his eyes and then...

Then one of the guards chasing him went down and didn't get up again.

Bennet had no idea what had just happened but he wasn't about to look a gifted horse in the mouth, just continued to run until he safely passed through the doors leading outside. There he immediately hid himself in the shadows, creeping along the walls, eyes always focused on the people running around like headless chickens. He wondered what had them in such a tizzy, certainly not him. They had regarded him as easy pickings and paid for it but this wasn't his work.

Some of the men were shooting at something but Bennet couldn't see anything. It could only mean one thing.

_Specials_

"Exactly."

His gun was pressed into the face of the person behind him before he realized that he had moved. Despite his age he was still far more athletic than most people. Getting a good look at the person behind him, Noah froze. Never once had he thought he would see him again, but apparently fate wanted things differently.

Sylar hadn't changed at all.

The dark eyes still gleamed with feral delight and the shark like grin graced his mouth. His clothes were black like the night, making it possible for him to blend with his surroundings completely and vanish from sight. Though Bennet knew from experience that the former killer didn't need it. He could sneak around in plain sight and you wouldn't know that he was there until it was far too late.

"What are you doing here, Gabriel?"

The name was a cheap shot but he would need all advantages he could get against him. He had never been above using enemies' weaknesses against then. Only the expected reaction failed to make and appearance. Sylar merely raised an eyebrow before his grin widened and he nodded approvingly. It through Noah for a minute, though he didn't show it.

"You haven't lost your edge Bennet, good."

"Why are you here?"

"I want the same thing you want."

"Bullshit!"

Noah doubted that the serial killer had come here to look for his daughter and it made him all the gladder too. The thought of his beloved Claire anywhere near the serial killer made him want to kill him, repeatedly. In that case Sylar's healing ability, stolen from his daughter, would be a nice bonus. Sadly he knew better than to try, even if could disable the man for a brief moment and with his telekinesis Noah had no guarantee, the other guards would notice him immediately and then it would be game over. He couldn't die yet, not as long as Claire was being imprisoned somewhere.

"If you are here for Claire, than I'll have to disappoint you. According to our intel they moved her to Michigan about a month ago."

Bennet resisted the urge to shout in anger, it wouldn't do him any good. But Michigan, that was quite a distance. At least when you were a wanted fellow of the nation. Without the protection of the Company moving unnoticed had become harder than anticipated in the beginning. Not that he hadn't adapted, but his old contacts laid low themselves and he couldn't expect them to help him.

"Then what do you want?"

"The file you have stolen. It contains information on the experiments they done on us. I need them."

The USB stick he had stolen felt suddenly far heavier in his pocket than before but he made no move to give it up. He needed that data just as much, it could provide him with vital information dealing with Claire.

"How about an exchange?"

Watching the other man suspiciously, Noah lowered the gun. Against Sylar it would just be a waste of bullets anyway.

"What would you want to give me then?"

Another grin and then he poured about a dozen of empty bullets onto the ground in front of him. Puzzled Bennet studied them for a moment before pinning the serial killer again with a stare. Still grinning Slyar obliged him and answered.

"How about the file for all the bullets I protected you from tonight."

Like filled with lead, that was how Bennet felt during that second. Sylar's words were reaching his ears but the context. No he didn't want to hear that, didn't want to see the truth that he survived the night only because of someone he hated. Yet Bennet was realistic. Dead he wouldn't be able to safe Claire or make the persons responsible pay. On the other hand with someone like Sylar at his side, things might be a bit easier. When it came down to it the decision was frighteningly easy.

"I guess we could share the file."

Sylar offered him a nod for his answer before gesturing him to follow. Noah did so, yet still keeping his gun ready. While he didn't have anything Sylar couldn't take from him in the blink of an eye, it made him feel more secure. He could defend himself should push come to shove.

"Took you longer than expected?"

"No, I met an old friend. But you know each other already."

Staring at the younger man, Noah could honestly say he hadn't been expecting that. But apparently he wasn't the only one who could lay his personal feelings aside to work for a common goal. Matt Parkman seemed to belong into that category too.

* * *

New York, 2006

* * *

"Damnit!"

Heidi looked briefly up from the book she had been reading as Nathan's voice was heard throughout the whole house. It was probably something connected to Peter's case, she knew. Lately that seemed to be the only thing that could lower Nathan's mood was Peter's case or what was left of the case. The investigation had been closed only a few days ago. The police convinced that without a name or at least a hint of a genetic fingerprint they couldn't do more for her brother-in-law.

Caressing his her belly absently, Heidi put the book down.

Peter had made good progress during the last months. While initially being total unresponsive, patience and care had coaxed Nathan's brother back out of his self-imposed shell. He was still far from being fine but important steps on his way to recovery had been taken. The flinching, which had accompanied nearly every reaction pertaining touch in any shape or form, was gone as long as Peter could see the person and knew him or her.

According to his psychologist that was incredible progress. Though both her and Nathan often needed to be reminded that Peter was taking baby steps and that it wouldn't be better overnight. There had been enough instances were a night terror had been enough to set him back in his recovery.

She still remembered clearly the day the police had interviewed him. They had even gone as far as to take more hair sample to do another drug test. There had been holes in Peter's memory that couldn't be natural. PTDS according to the psychologist, Peter had in an attempt to cope better with the situation, blanketed the memories out. With time they would return but for now they were lost in the vast mind.

It had made the questioning quite difficult and more than once the officer had to send out of the room because he was on the verge of losing his temper. The only good thing that came out of the whole disaster was that the addition Nathan had made to his election, program had won him the election, by quite a wide margin even and their own relationship of course.

Heidi knew well enough that without Peter's situation she and Nathan would never have been together like this again. Hissing slightly she silently scolded their active daughter, she just couldn't wait to see the world, regardless that she had still more than four months time until her big day came. Another child, she would never have imagined it. But now they were all happy, more than happy. Angela had been delighted as they had told her the news, Peter had offered one of his lopsided smiles and a long hug as congratulation and Nathan?

Nathan had taken her out for dinner, leaving the children with their grandmother and afterwards they had visited the opera. Listening to the sound of her favorite opera, she had leaned against Nathan before dragging him towards one of the secluded balconies. His face had been priceless. But since then, they were okay. His affairs had ceased and for that she was grateful. While she had always known about his infidelity, she had always taken it to heart, thought that there might be something wrong with her.

Of course, she had had affairs as well, but never so excessive as Nathan.

"Is everything alright, Nathan?"

She didn't get an answer, so Heidi supposed that the problem had solved itself. But then he entered the living room, a folder in his hands. Heidi knew without reading the name that it was Peter's. Since Nathan's election he was no longer a state attorney, or at least no longer working as one. Not that it stopped him from studying the file again and again as if he would find a solution if he only read the text often enough or studied the facial composite. They both knew that without Peter's memory they might never find the bastard but Nathan wouldn't give up. His inert stubbornness causing him to sink his teeth in and never let go.

"No, it's the case. I can't believe they closed it. They let such a monster walk away."

"Nathan, we still don't know if this Sylar is responsible for Peter's … condition. We just know that Peter feels safe with him. He could also be Peter's lover for all we know."

Her husband just glared harder before sitting down next to her, spreading the file by now nearly one inch thick over the whole coffee table. Heidi just sighed, she knew all too well that Nathan wouldn't let it go. Shutting her book, she waited for him to continue.

"Peter would have told us, if he was you know."

"Gay? Bisexual? You can't know that Nathan, he didn't tell us about nursing school either. Surely you remember that he announced his plans one day before the school was about to begin."

Nathan only grumbled and watched Heidi with a the eyes of a hawk. Objectively he knew that she was right, but it still rankled him. He just couldn't forget how his little brother had looked like when he had found him. But now he might never get the chance to make someone pay for it even if Peter was getting better. Sylar, the name of someone or something was the only lead they had and not Peter had provided it but the psychologist and didn't they break a shitload of laws to get her to tell him about it in the first place.

"_Excuse me, this information falls under patient confidentiality. I can't tell you that."_

"_I'm not asking you to, I don't want to see whatever protocols you have written. I just want to know if there was any time when Peter mentioned a name. They are about to close the case. Alissa, please."_

_The doctor offered him a glare, before she quite reluctantly went over to a file cabinet and pulled after some searching a thick folder from it. Nathan could make out Peter's name before she returned and he quickly banished the smug smile of success from his face. Soberly he waited for her to give him the file, which she didn't. _

_Instead she sat on the chair behind her desk and gestured for him to take the other in front of it. Knowing how stubborn the old woman before him could be, he took her hint and sat down himself. Silently he waited while she perused the file until she pulled two sheets from it and spoke._

"_One name came up more than once but I'm not sure it's actually a person. A few weeks ago during a session I did a variant of word association with Peter. I showed him different objects and he had to tell me what he connected with them. For the most part the responses were fairly typical. Answers I have gotten from patients before. Just one was unusual."_

"_What was it."_

"_I showed him the picture of a watch. Now most associate that with time, or schedules. But he said 'Sylar'. As I didn't know what it meant, so I researched the name. A German watch brand, produced around 1910 or so."_

_Nathan frowned, he didn't know where she was going with that. _

"_Later I had him associated the feelings or words from the first test with emotions. For example when I said friendship, he associated it with you Nathan. But as I came to Sylar, the reaction was odd."_

_Now that sounded interesting. Nathan leaned forward until he was quite literally leaning half over the desk. _

"_How so."_

"_He seemed unsure for a moment before he decided on 'safety'. I asked if he was sure and Peter nodded saying that Sylar saved him before."_

_Alissa trailed off for a moment, seemingly lost in thoughts before focusing her eyes on Nathan. It used to make him uncomfortable when she looked at him like that, the green and brown eyes piercing in their intensity. _

"_Did he elaborate on that?"_

"_No, when I asked him Peter just looked confused for a moment before saying that he didn't remember."_

"_Like with the photofit picture?"_

"_A different reaction but the principle is the same. Whoever Sylar is, one way or another, Peter has blanketed him from his memories. The memories are still there, in the subconscious. However he won't be able to answer you should you ask."_

_Then she pushed two paper towards him. Nathan took them with a frown and read. Summaries of the two test she had described for him. It wasn't the best lead but it was more than he had hoped for. Truthfully he hadn't expected Alissa to actually tell him anything. Not without a warrant at least. He appreciated it._

"_Would you describe his reaction during the questionings from the police to me. When they drew the photofit?"_

"_Peter was tense, understandably in his case. His whole body language was set on flight. But he's a Petrelli just as stubborn as you are. He thought that what had happened were just dreams. The officer was quite rude and pulled his arms up, asking if Peter thought dreams could choke or chain him. It upset Peter, we had to take a break but he was cooperative afterwards. I talked with him and then he started describing the man, who did that to him, in frightening details down to the mole he had on his shoulder. As the officer showed him the drawing after finishing, Peter leaned over the bed and threw up."_

_Alissa pulled the drawing from the folder, Nathan knew it all too well. But they had no idea who that man was or where he lived. A renewed search of Peter's apartment had yielded nothing, no hair, no fucking finger print. They had reached a dead end and the case would be closed soon. Nathan was running out of time. _

"_Thank you Alissa, you have been a great help."_

"_Don't think I don't care Nathan, I have been with your family before you were born. But some things or people just don't get their fairytale ending. No matter how much they deserve it."_

Nathan remembered the conversation with their counselor all too well. Alissa had been there when their father had died of a heart attack just as she had been there years prior when his mother had suffered from postnatal depressions after his birth. The woman was a good friend of their family. Though he still didn't like her implications, that Peter wouldn't get a good ending. He would be alright and that was what counted.

* * *

New York, 2013

* * *

New Years had come, passed and Peter was still following the compass. The needle hadn't stopped spinning. Now already in Kansas Peter hoped that he would soon find the carnival. His departure had been hasty, he had taken his remaining vacation days, packed a bag and left. Had even forgotten to let Emma know. Only by the time he had was one state away from New York did he remember.

She hadn't been happy but wished him a good vacation.

Now reaching another town he studied the tattoo on his arm. The spinning had slowed down hours ago. Peter was confident that soon he would reach his destination. Driving into town with his rental car, he searched for a hotel but only found a small Inn. It would do for a night or so. By tomorrow he hoped to have reached the carnival.

The lady at the Inn smiled at him. Her yellow bracelet hidden among dozens of others. A nice trick. She was following the law to the T but still a visitor still couldn't immediately tell whether or not she was a special. Pity that rainbow colored bracelets weren't in fashion for men this year.

Collapsing onto the bed Peter fell soon asleep. The trip had taken quite a bit of energy.

It was already dark as he awoke to a pulling sensation. Switching the lamp on the nightstand on, he wondered what had woken him until he felt an itching beneath his skin. The tattoo of the compass had darkened to a near blood red, the needle spinning like someone had placed a lodestone next to his arm.

Groaning Peter set up, got dressed and stood in his room. Now what?

On cue the pulling sensation only strengthened. The needle now settled onto one direction, pointing towards the window. And there it was. Looking through the window Peter could see the colorful tents in the distance. Not wanting to wake the Inn keeper, he opened the window and proceeded to climb down in a way that would have made a monkey proud. Ignoring everything else he sprinted off into the direction of the lights.

Finally he reached the entrance. It was like stepping into the past. People were mingling around the rides, music was playing and colorful lights were flashing. Walking into the area he tried to remember the layout of the carnival only to find out that his internal map was all but useless. None of the rides was were it had been during his last visit. Then Peter saw Parkman standing near the house of mirrors and did a double take. But the telepath didn't vanish. He still talked with his wife who had another baby on her shoulder. It couldn't be their son, he had to be far older by now.

A hand suddenly clamped onto his shoulder and he froze before pulling away. Arms already up to defend himself he came face to face with Bennet who watched him with an inscrutable expression. Though Peter thought for a moment to recognize pity in the older man's eyes. It had to have been a figment of his imagination.

"Peter, it is good to see you."

"Likewise."

"You took your sweet time. The others have been waiting for you."

Peter looked around as if the persons Bennet had spoken of would suddenly appear. Of course nothing happened. People were still mingling and walking from ride to another without sparing the two of them a glance.

"Come, we have much to talk about."

"Where's Sylar?"

"Inside the main tent. His show isn't over yet. He'll meet with you afterwards. Come, Claire has been wanting to see you."

_Claire? Here?_

"Yes she's here. She's been here ever since we rescued her from one of the government's facilities three months ago."

_Thee months?_

Claire had been free for months and he hadn't known. Why had no one seen it fit to inform him that his niece was alright.

"Because you were being watched."

"Are you a mindreader now?"

Noah offered Peter a flat look before opening the door to one of the caravans surrounding the rides. Stepping inside, he had a short moment before something brown haired flew at him. Then Claire was hugging him and Peter relaxed with a sigh after tensing for a few seconds. Stepping back he took her in. Claire hadn't really changed aside from the now short brown hair. At least on the outside, her eyes though, they were a different story. They were colder now.

"It's good to see you Peter. Why haven't you visited us before?"

"The compass Sylar send me, got destroyed during a raid. Then a women gifted me with a fortune cookie and the address to a tattoo studio. There my compass tattoo was renewed."

"Then you have met Steven already."

He nodded again but before he could ask, who Steven really was, someone knocked on the door. Claire sighed and grimaced before allowing the person to come in. It was Sylar, also looking no different than years ago. Though Peter still had trouble believing that he had finally managed to be here.

"Hello Peter, it's been a while."

"Yes, it has."

Like an unspoken command Peter bid Claire a goodbye and followed Sylar outside. The others caravan was on the other side of the carnival, but the silence hanging over them wasn't uncomfortable. In fact to Peter it felt like he was back inside Sylar's mind where they had spent hours in comfortable silence.

"I saw Parkman."

"There are quite a few people you know. Most are on the run in one way or another. We offer them shelter here."

Sylar's caravan reflected his personality like his apartment in his mind had done. A small table with tools to repair watches, the walls covered with bookcases and a few photos on the nightstand next to the very uncomfortable looking bed. One bookcase however wasn't filled to the brim with books but what looked like computer equipment and different folders. Some had names on them, some what looked to be different reference numbers. One of the folder was marked with his own name and a location. Peter felt as his vein froze and his mind came to a stuttering halt.

_Sylar knew!_

"Is there something wrong Peter?"

The _aside from the obvious _was left out but he still heard it quite clearly. He didn't know how to answer. It was obvious that something was wrong, like the whole fucking world who hunted them down like dogs, collared like filthy animals and put them down when it suited them. But that wasn't what Sylar meant and Peter knew that. No the question was aimed at him.

"You already know, so what is the point in asking. Who else knows."

"Only Bennet and I think Micah suspects it. But he has access to all files, he might already have confirmed it."

Peter felt numb. The fact that there were other left him feeling sick. It must have been visible on his face because suddenly Sylar was at his side and pulling/dragging/carrying into the bathroom. He barely reached the toilet before he was violently ill, even heaving when there was nothing left to throw up. During the whole period Sylar's hand rested on his back, simultaneously like and unlike Nathan. It didn't make him angry anymore, he had forgiven him years ago.

"There are others?"

Sipping from a glass of water that had miraculously appeared in his hand, he rested on the bed while Sylar took a chair from the table.

"Many more, adults, kids, teenager. It doesn't make a difference anymore. Soon the public will regard us as nothing more than labrats."

"What can we do?"

Sylar pulled another folder out and handed it to him. The sheets insides were filled with notes on different projects involving specials, some initiated, some aborted and some destroyed. It was clear what Sylar meant.

"You will fight them."

"We are already at war Peter. Just not in the open, but as you can see there are quite a few facilities who contained specials. We have invaded them, stolen their files and liberated everything worth taking. The government has kept the whole affair a secret, afraid of a mass panic."

The glass fell from his slack fingers and would have shattered on the ground had Sylar not caught it with his telekinesis. It ended on the nightstand next to a photo of Sylar and... Emma? Taking the picture, and subsequently ignoring Sylar for a moment, he studied the image. The photo was years old, if the way Emma had styled her hair was any indication, but both she and Sylar looked happy in the picture. It had been taken in Disneyland of all places. In the background a gigantic Mickey Mouse was hugging another kid.

"You and Emma?"

"Years ago, it didn't work out as intended."

"She never said anything. When was that?"

"Late 2011, I checked up on you briefly after Claire had been kidnapped and encountered her by chance. The government kept too close tabs on you. I couldn't contact you."

"You seem happy."

It was Gabriel's smile that graced Sylar's face for a moment before it vanished just as quickly.

"I was, for the time being. But Emma needs, wants someone stable in her life. I can't be that someone. We are still good friends. She'll join us next week."

He put the picture back onto the nightstand. It felt odd to hear Sylar say something like this. Most of the time he had forgotten that the former serial killer was also a person who desired close bonds. Even if he didn't appear to be most of the time.

"So you'll destroy all I have fought for?"

Hands suddenly enclosed his own and Peter couldn't have pulled away if he had wanted to. Sylar had a vice like grip on his limbs. There was a furious expression on his face. Anger bubbling under the surface.

"Peter you have sacrificed much, but don't think for a second that you are the only one. There are dozens of people here who lost someone or something to the government. Do you really think they will stop. The public doesn't give a damn about us and without the masses on our side, peaceful arguments won't bring anything. You are afraid to prove them right? At least that accomplishes something. Claire wouldn't be walking free, if Bennet and I hadn't decided to destroy the facility and the same goes for others."

Then his voice softened as did his expression. Regret. Sylar was feeling regret.

"I'm not saying that what you did was worthless or meaningless because it wasn't. It's just not the right time for debates. Now only actions will get us farther and I know that you'll agree with me."

"What makes you say that?"

Peter wanted to pull away, but he found that he couldn't. Sylar was warm and real in ways he hadn't felt since before the registration. How long had it been since he had been touched without the intention of pain? He couldn't remember.

"Because I have the file for the newest pet project here and you don't think I wouldn't cover all my bases before making an argument, right?"

That was true. Sylar would never start an argument he couldn't win, at least not when he had time to plan something beforehand. Relaxing in Sylar's grip, Peter already knew that he would stay and fight.

His white bracelet cluttered onto the wooden floor before going up in flames, effectively signaling the end of that chapter of his life.

* * *

New York, 2006

* * *

Peter looked horrible, frail and broken. Ada found it hard to believe that this was the man she had shared so many battles, meals and moments of comfort with. Only to remind herself forcefully that this wasn't her Peter. Her Peter was dead. Without effort she could still remember as his breathing had stopped while he had been leaning against her Sylar's body.

No, this was a young Peter, who had been treated horribly. Snagging the flip chart from the end of the bed, she went over the notes. Numbly she changed back into Sylar. Dressed in comfortable pants and a simple shirt, he took the chair that Nathan must have occupied before. One of Peter's hands still laid above the covers. Someone had been here and sat at his bedside.

For a short moment he felt a stab of envy. Knowing that his mother was suffering from dementia and was living in a retirement home, meant that he had never been visited in all the years he had been sleeping in his bed. Shaking his head, he pushed the images of blood and pain away. The sight of his older other self from the future terrifying him. It was idiotic really, his brain knew what had happened.

His other self from the future had been injured before trying to travel through time. Because of that he had ended up in 1989 instead of 2006 like he had wanted. Due to the injuries he had grabbed him, current Gabriel/Sylar, and cut his head open to gift him with his own abilities and memories. To ensure that he would take care of the problem.

_He still couldn't believe it. Claire had forgiven him. _

_Thoughts were running through his head and he couldn't seem to understand them. What did he feel, relief, fear, exhaustion, exhilaration? He couldn't tell. _

_An explosion pulled him back to the here and now. There was still a task to be done. In his mind he could picture Claire as she was running between the heavy machinery of their enemies, throwing grenades left and right. Getting shot down only to pull herself up again to the horror of the adversaries. _

_It got him going, then he was running into the opposite direction. Away from the machines that kept his powers confined. Then another explosion. Time was straining beneath his skin, itching to be used but not yet. _

_Firing he took another agent down, before stabbing the next. Evading another attack he pushed with his mind and watched with pleasure as the agent flew backwards. Telekinesis was working again. Claire was doing it. A needle hit him in the back, but he ignored it. He had taken the antidote beforehand. He would be fine. Emptying the clip, he reloaded his gun before throwing himself aside. Using his shield he tried to protect his body as something hit him in the back. _

_Feeling vaguely uncomfortable, he snapped the agent's neck. More darts hit his skin. But as the itching became downright uncomfortable he forgot about them. Throwing the rest of the men away he felt the last barrier between himself and his powers fall. Claire had done it. She had destroyed every single dampening machine._

_With his last thoughts being of the people who had managed to get him to this point, he grabbed the strand of time he wanted to travel to and left nothing but an empty battlefield behind. _

That's what had happened and the rest? The rest he knew from his own experience. It hurt quite a bit more than imagined when someone was cutting your skull open.

_Blood was dripping down his face, whimpering, groaning in pain.. it just wouldn't stop..._

Breathing in deeply, he calmed himself. It would be difficult to keep that a bay but for now he needed to do it. There were so many things to be taken care of. Carefully he took Peter's hand in his own. Noting that the bandages weren't enough to cover up all the bruises that had been left on his skin.

He tried to remember if Peter had ever told him about being in hospital prior their first meeting in Claire's high school and came up blank. During their time together they had talked about many things and he was sure that something of this magnitude would have come up.

It could only mean on thing, one conclusion.

_I'm somehow responsible for you being here... _

The thought made him uncomfortable and he had to restrain himself from pushing his healing ability into Peter's direction. Instead he only tightened his empathic shields around them. He couldn't allow Peter to absorb them, not yet. Without control it could lead to a disaster, especially in a hospital. Neither of them, needed the attention.

A commotion from in front of the hospital caught his attention. Focusing his enhanced hearing on it he listened to the different voices and growled.

"_The press has a right to know what happened!"_

"_Doctor, how would you describe Peter Petrelli's condition."_

"_How did Nathan Petrelli react?"_

"_Is it true that he was sexually assaulted?"_

His insides froze as he listened to the voices of what must have been reporters. So Nathan was still running for congress. It gave him at least a time frame but what did the reporter mean... surely not. Turning his head back, Sylar looked at Peter. And met the gaze of sleepy brown eyes. Peter must have woken up while his attention was elsewhere. Peter smiled.

"..Sylar..."

The voice was barely louder than a whisper but resounded inside his head like the sound of drums.

_Impossible. He shouldn't know who I am. _

Then Peter's eyes closed and he was asleep again. His hand slack in Sylar's own. He couldn't stay any longer. Without focus did he teleport and vanished through time and space.

He arrived in Central Park in 2006 in early June. Sitting on one of the many benches Sylar contemplated what he would do, what he should do.

_Something needs to be done about Papa Petrelli and Pinehearst. Angela should already have tried to poison him. It will be easy now. _

_Then Samuel Sullivan.. another problem but still contained. His brother's not dead yet. _

_The Company needs to be taken care of as well. _

_Claire should still be doing her experiments... what to do about her. _

A cab was passing the streets and Sylar was forcefully reminded of Chandra Suresh. Of course, if Sylar, Gabriel had been in coma for the last fifteen years. Then the doctor had never approached him. He was also still alive. All of his former victims were still alive. Hiro Nakamura was only just discovering his ability. Did that mean that he hadn't visited Peter to tell to _"save the cheerleader, save the world"_?

His actions had been the catalyst for many resulting meetings and actions.

Chandra Suresh met Gabriel Gray and was killed by him afterwards, but now they had never met. Chandra should still be alive.

Hiro and Peter had met because he had wanted to kill Claire.

Thus Peter only met Claire because he had wanted to save her. Because of that Claire made contact with her biological family.

Parkman only worked for the FBI because Audrey needed his help in the Sylar case. A case that didn't exist.

Mohinder had come to America because of his father's death. A death that shouldn't have happened.

It seemed that he wasn't that ordinary after all. To think that he had wanted to be important and had been it the whole time. Sylar couldn't help it, he laughed, loudly. Ignoring that he was scaring some of the other pedestrians he laughed until his stomach was cramping and he had no more tears to shed.

Still there was one question left, how had Peter known him?

Sylar didn't believe in coincidences. It had to be something else. Something that he was overlooking at the moment. Trying to remember the original timeline, he knew that Peter should currently be dreaming about flying. But that hospital visit didn't involve the amount of bruises he had seen on Peter. No, this was something else.

But what?

Resolving to think about it later, Sylar decided that it was time to visit Arthur Petrelli in Pinehearst. Wouldn't the man be happy to see him. Pinehearst destruction would create a wing beat of epic proportions in terms of the butterfly effect but he would be damned if he let Arthur steal Peter's powers again.

But before he could move the answer to his remaining question came to him. Of course, Peter's power. That explained it.

_Evolution..._

It was the only explanation that made sense. Peter's empathy had evolved to the point that the effects of what he experienced were reflected not only in his memories but his body as well. If he had dreamed far enough into the future than the timeline he came from could still be a possibility and then he would have suffered from it.

For a brief moment Sylar felt guilty, the only explanation for the evolution was the other Sylar's involvement in this current timeline. It wasn't what he had wanted but both he and Peter would ultimately have to deal with it.

And they would, but now he had an appointment with Arthur Petrelli and wouldn't Angela flip he delivered her supposed dead husband's body to her? Small cases of revenge wouldn't hurt and he was entitled for some. Afterwards he might have to take care of Eden and Chandra. But he would let them decided how he proceeded.

For a better future he wouldn't mind being the villain again.

_tbc..._


	8. Finish

**Fate, in the hand of men**  
- a Heroes story -

**Author**: ryuosen  
**Artist**: davincis_girl  
**written** for heroes_bigboom at lj  
**Genre**: Action, Drama, Angst, Scifi, Het, Slash  
**Rating**: R for violence, rape, language, sexual themes,  
**Wordcount**: ~ 40000  
**Summary**:  
Everything changed with Claire's dive off the Ferris Wheel, just not for the better. When life became unbearable, there was no choice but to rebel. Yet for all their power, they're still losing. With their last chance, Peter, the right man for the job, used Hiro's power to stop Claire from ever taking the dive. Pity that he got himself killed beforehand, leaving Sylar with the task. Pity that he died too...

**Notes:**A big thank you to Ayou for listening to my ideas, whining and for kicking my ass, when it was necessary and to davincis_girl for the beautiful cover and the awesome fanmix booklet. Thanks a lot. It was great to work with you! A link to the artwork can be found in my profile under the story, along with the fanmix.

The story is complete with a prologue, 6 chapters, epilogue and will be updated every Wednesday.

_Comments/critics are appreciated!_

* * *

New York, 2010_  
_

* * *

"I finally found you."

Sylar stopped. He knew that voice even if he hadn't heard it in years. Turning around he came face to face with Peter Petrelli and a few feet behind him Emma. She obviously recognized him because her eyes widened before she offered him a shy smile. It made him wonder what she had thought of his sudden disappearance from the hospital and the cello he had left for her to find along with enough cash to pay for the bills over the years.

Fate it seemed liked to toy with them. Of all places they could have met it had to be Kirby Plaza. Here they had fought and decided the future of the world for the first time. Or was it the second time and the first time had been as they had faced of at the high school in Texas. It didn't matter either way. Sylar had done what had been necessary. Though to be fair he had to admit that it had been satisfying to ensure that Arthur Petrelli would never hurt anyone ever again. The destruction of Pinehearst had been even better, the tone of a crashing building sounding like music to his ears.

"Hello Peter, Emma."

"I was right. It was all true, wasn't it?"

Peter waited for Sylar to answer. For years he had waited for this moment, had hoped that he would finally encounter one of the most elusive specials in existence and yes he included Claude in that. Over the years he had heard the whispers, the rumors and all he wanted was to find the man to finally get answers to thoughts and memories he couldn't explain.

He had met many specials over the years. A Japanese man named Hiro Nakamura who could control time, though he himself had yet to try that. Given how shaky his control usually was with easy abilities he didn't want to see what could happen should he try something more delicate. The near explosion in Odessa had taught him, that he shouldn't play around with his abilities. Even his training with Claude hadn't helped. While yes he could use his abilities, sometimes even more than one, his control over them was never a hundred percent.

The only other known special who was able to take abilities was Sylar. Someone Peter knew intimately or at least thought he did, because he had this whole set of memories of him in his head. The problem was that he had no idea from where they came or if they were true.

_According to those Nathan was dead.. _even though he was currently preparing himself for his run for presidency.

Hiro had said it might be knowledge of a possible future, but as Peter had never traveled in time it was unlikely. Or at least that was what he wanted to believe. To think that memories, who had never happened, could affect him this way, was unimaginable.

He still remembered the day he had woken up in hospital after someone had literally beat him within an inch of his life and raped him. At least that was what Nathan had told him and he hadn't been able to remember if it ever happened. Or if he had just dreamed that it happened, although he could describe the man, the where and the how...

_Shackled, glaring, fury... _

"Why don't you tell me that Peter. What do you believe?"

Sylar was watching him and Emma, brown eyes studying him like he was something under a microscope. For all his supposed knowledge of Sylar he couldn't tell what he was thinking. Other things were exactly like they were in the memories he couldn't explain. Dark jeans and a dark coat along with the hair slicked back. Yes, he remembered this man.

"I think it's all true. But how do I know that?"

_How do I know you?_

He didn't speak the last part but Sylar appeared to have heard it anyway. Smiling slightly Peter got a nod before the other man threw something at him. Out of reflex Peter caught the small box. Without opening it, he already knew what he would find inside.

_My compass..._

"If you want answers, come to the place it will lead you. I will be waiting. Alone."

Then Sylar was gone.

Another piece of a puzzle where he had far too many pieces but no picture to compare them to. Turning to Emma, he noticed that she looked worried. Obviously not pleased with the thought of him meeting with a potentially dangerous special. A moot point anyway, they knew that Sylar was dangerous. He had attacked the Company that had been hidden behind Primatech on his own and destroyed everything.

Pity that he and Nathan had heard too late about what his parents had been doing there. He probably would have joined Sylar in his quest. The phantom feeling of shackles holding him immobile while someone prodded and poked him, or used his body as he saw fit still haunted him, even though he knew by now that it technically had never happened to him or his body. Unfortunately his brain didn't get that message.

So he sometimes still flinched when someone foreign touched him unexpectedly or had to visit the doctor because he had never gotten over the latrophobia either. Working as a nurse or paramedic, because that was what he had been in the other memories, was impossible as well.

Nowadays he was working at a care center for victims of abuse which his mother had founded after he had been released from hospital. It had started out small with only five people working there. Now five years later they were 30 employees, him included. They had come far in the short time and it was just as fulfilling to see a girl or a boy go home with a new confidence in life as caring for the elderly.

Opening the box, he watched as the needle spun around before firmly pointing west. Emma touched his shoulder briefly before speaking.

"Go, I'll be fine on my own."

Nodding his thanks, he hugged her briefly. Before thinking of Nathan and the deep friendship they shared. With the emotion came the ability and then was shooting off the ground like a rocket. He really loved flying. Clutching the compass between his fingers he followed the little tool until he stepped down on a open field.

* * *

Somewhere, 2010

* * *

Sylar heard Peter long before was even visible. The humming that filled the air, usually he associated it with planes, became steadily louder. He should have known that Peter would prefer his brother's ability to Hiro's especially if the rumors about Peter's control were true. If he was honest with himself, he had dreaded this day.

Three years had passed since he had walked away from a barely conscious Peter who had laid helplessly in a hospital bed. As much as he had longed to help him, he knew that he couldn't. Not when his own emotions were so fragile. This Peter hadn't deserved to be treated like Sylar would have treated the other one, from the old timeline. And as long as Sylar himself couldn't differentiate between them, he couldn't stay close to the people he knew and had come to love over the years they had fought together.

Instead he had returned to the carnival. To say that Samuel and Joseph Sullivan had been surprised had been something of an understatement, but a small lie about having seen the carnival in another timeline before demonstrating the gift of time manipulation had been enough to get accepted.

It had felt like coming home, even if the ulterior motive had been to keep an eye on Samuel Sullivan.

But that was all in the past now, or rather all in his past now and in a future that would never happen. Everyday he painted and everyday he saw different versions of the future but never one that resembled the one he came from. Over the years his mind had fused with the few memories that had survived the initial procedure of transferring the other Sylar's memories and abilities. They was no difference anymore, he was the Sylar of this and the old timeline. The Sylar who had marched into Pinehearst with a confidence that bordered on arrogance and destroyed every piece of equipment he had found before meeting with Arthur Petrelli.

For once he hadn't taunted, had only told him why he had to die and then done it.

"_For Peter.."_

He felt only marginally bad for killing someone in Peter's name. Knowing the other man he wouldn't have wanted it, until it was nearly too late. If there was one thing that Sylar had wanted to avoid it was having a repetition of the Pinehearst scenario.

Adam Monroe had been an interesting experience. Since Hiro had never impaled Sylar on Kirby Plaza, Sylar had never thrown him against a building and with that he had never traveled back to meet the woman named Yaeko and Takezo Kensei. And hadn't that changed Japan's history. In the end he had simple waited while Kaito Nakamura had Adam buried before digging him up again. Adam had promptly tried to kill him and watched in shock as Sylar had regenerated in front of him.

Choking Adam he had dragged him along to the carnival, where Adam still lived. Unsurprisingly enough he had married one of the carnies three months after his arrival. Currently he had his hands full with his pregnant wife and their first child. Running off wasn't an option either because _Jewel _would hunt him down and neuter him repeatedly _- her words_ - if he tried.

Dealing with Chandra Suresh had been hard. With him Sylar connected many pleasant and just as man unpleasant experiences.

Few people could say they had killed themselves, succeeded and were still there to talk about it and only he could probably say he had done it twice. He had killed Gabriel Gray by emerging as Sylar after a murdering an innocent man (Brian Davis - who was by now married and living with the carnival) and he had killed a younger more docile version of himself by cutting his head open to imprint his own memories and identity.

After an intensive and very trying talk from both sides, Chandra had decided to continue his research in India under the watchful eyes of his son. Thankfully he had been spared meeting Mohinder. That was a can of worms he never wanted to open, ever again.

In the end he had been left with Bennet, Claire and the Company.

He had promptly taken the Company down and gotten Micah to erase every bit of data he could find. Though dealing with Nikki/Jessica had been awkward and had ended in blows more than once. Superstrength versus rapid healing and shielding, they had decided on a draw when it looked like they would bring the house down.

Bennet was, surprise surprise, still hunting him after he had threatened Claire and destroyed the Company. The man really needed a hobby.

"_Stop your daughter's attempts to expose us or I'll stop her. I don't care how you do it. Tell her about your work, her real parents. But do it!"_

His name had once more become a name infamous for his violence and power. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to escape that stigma.

Then there was Peter.

He had avoided the man ever after he had left the hospital. Even as he had heard that he was searching for him. Knowing that Peter somehow managed to evolve his ability to the point, where even dreams affected him; and it had to have been dreams, there was no other ability in his immediate vicinity that could have had the same effect. Only Angela had frequently contact with Peter and she had precognitive dreaming. It explained everything.

But that also meant that Peter was the only one aside from himself who remembered a future that was made of nightmares. He hadn't known whether to be glad or horrified. His own comatose state must have effected Peter, who was far more powerful than Angela, and thus had made him dream of a future only Sylar had lived in. The horrors and problems aside he had somehow been glad. A burden shared was a burden halved after all.

Still he couldn't face Peter.

_Until tonight anyway._

Peter landed a few feet away from him. The box with the compass already hidden on his person. It made Sylar laugh quietly.

_Too afraid to let me get away again are you?_

"You sent Claire to us, didn't you?"

That he had, he had even gone as far as to write the names and address down for Bennet. All that Claire would stop her attempts to expose them.

"I made a few suggestions to her father. One of them was that she should meet you, yes."

"Why would you do that."

"Because I wanted her to know that there are others like her. That she isn't anything special among us and that she stops her attempts to expose us."

Had anyone told him that he would, one day, think that Claire Bennet wasn't special anymore, then he would probably sliced that person's head open. Now he knew better.

"So what I have seen is a possible future."

It was the conviction in Peter's voice that caused him to nod. He was in no mood to relieve his past, but he would answer the questions Peter had.

"How come I was able to see it so clearly, as if..."

"As if you lived it? I don't know the reason for the why, though the how is most likely that your empathic ability which pertains understanding and absorbing emotions as well as abilities evolved to the point that you felt the effects of the future you were dreaming about. The dreaming ability would be from your mother."

"Why don't I dream about anymore."

"Because _that _version of the future doesn't exist anymore. I made sure of it."

Sylar turned away from Peter and watched as the lights of the carnival went out one by one. Soon the whole troupe would be asleep.

"Why did you avoid me? You knew I was searching for you, right?"

"Yes I knew and I avoided you because at the time I had trouble to separate you from the Peter of the possible future. You are not him."

Standing next to Sylar, Peter looked down the small hill towards the carnival. He knew what the carnival was, but he had never thought he would see it. The whole ensemble was something of a myth among the specials.

Peter looked at his hand. Inside his mind he could still see the bruises that had been decorating his wrists at one point years ago.

"No I'm not, but that doesn't mean I don't want to be."

He could feel Sylar's eyes on him but resolutely watched the sky as the sun rose slowly. Dropping his hand he carefully wrapped it around Sylar's before forcing himself to meet his eyes.

"The Peter in the future was brave, a bit naïve and stubborn. He knew what was being done to him and continued going anyway. All for what he believed in and the people he cared about. He was also at peace before he died..."

Swallowing Peter took another deep breath. Living through is own death had been painful although he had apparently spent most of the time unconscious and sedated. Still he had dreamed and felt what the other Peter had felt.

Peace, satisfaction, love...

"His only regret was, that he hadn't realized earlier what he had."

Sylar was still watching him, face expressionless but Peter knew that behind those brown eyes his mind was working out the meaning of his words. He also knew the exact moment he had come to a conclusion as his eyes widened faintly. To his credit, Sylar never wavered in his eye contact.

"You don't know what you are offering. The emotions are.. "

"They are mine and I may not know where they'll lead me, but I'd like to find out."

God, Peter hadn't felt this shy since he had kissed Mandy behind the bleachers of the school gym for the first time. Slowly he leaned forward and brushed their lips together. The contact was brief before Sylar pulled away but he was smiling and kept their fingers intertwined while his eyes turned back to the sun which rose over the tents of the carnival.

And while Peter didn't know yet, where he would be in 2015, he had a feeling that it would be a lot better than before.

He couldn't ask for more.

_fin_


End file.
